


A Pursuit of Happiness

by gilded_iris, maddy_writes



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Closeted Character, College AU, Coming Out, Dry Humping, F/M, Homophobia, M/M, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, but not really?, photographer/model au, trans richie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-05-05 20:14:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 44,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14626209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilded_iris/pseuds/gilded_iris, https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddy_writes/pseuds/maddy_writes
Summary: The lighting was nice, he was still a little tired, and Richie was being quiet as he posed against the tree. Occasionally shifting himself in a way that Eddie thought wasjust rightand took another picture of. The more he watched Trashmouth Tozier through the little screen of his camera, the more he liked merely looking at him... Just like this. His cheeks warmed at the thought.Just another college Reddie AU that no one asked for.





	1. who gives a shit about the future, anyways?

Eddie knew the moment he applied to the University of Maine for his degree in General Arts and Sciences that he had absolutely no prospects for that degree. There was nothing he could do with that. No job looked for someone with that degree, but it gave him everything that he needed. It got him out of his mothers clutches and out on his own. 

He hadn’t spoken to her since the summer between his freshman and sophomore year of college, and Eddie planned to keep it that way for as long as he could. 

After his freshman year, he had moved out of his dorm and into an apartment in Orono with a few friends and Eddie counted that as the best decision he had ever made. For the first time in his life, Eddie was able to experience _freedom._ Real honest to God freedom and have fun. For once, he didn’t have to hate the place he called home. He could have fun! The thought, for the first year, felt so foreign, but now? It was absolutely amazing. 

Mike Hanlon, Ben Hanscom, and Beverly Marsh were the best roommates Eddie could’ve ever asked for. 

It was 1pm on a Saturday when Eddie finally pulled his ass out of bed, went to the bathroom, and stumbled into the living room. Ben was gone, assumingly at work, but Bev and Mike were sitting together on the couch, watching TV. Eddie didn’t pay attention to what it was as he stepped into their path, blocking the TV. 

“Dude, seriously? Zumbo’s on!” Beverly complained loudly, but Eddie didn’t move. He placed his hands upon his hips and stared Beverly and Mike down with determination. Mike paused the show. 

“I’ve decided what I want to do with my life.” Eddie stated. 

“Great.” Beverly spoke. “Can we please keep watching Zumbo now?” 

A look of offense spread across Eddie’s face, and Mike, who had been silent on the matter, finally let out a small chuckle. “What do you want to be, Eddie?” 

“I want to keep driving cabs.” It was something he did in the evenings and on weekends for money. It was tiresome hours, but he got paid well, plus Eddie really liked driving. He found it strangely calming, and best of all, it was something that his mother would never allow him to do. 

Bev and Mike fell silent, sharing a glance. “Really, Eddie?” Mike asked him. “I mean, if that’s what you wanna do, go for it it’s just…”

“Yeah, it’s not very glamorous, I know. But I like it. I make good money.” 

“Good money for now. While you’re living with three other people and eating take-out every night… It’s not really much of a career, Eddie.” Bev pointed out. 

He frowned a little. Perhaps he hadn’t really considered that. “Well… I don’t know! I could save money… I could move up the ranks. Maybe I’ll open my own cab company or something!” 

There was a look on Beverly and Mike’s face which Eddie could only describe as… Confusion. It wasn’t a look that Eddie appreciated by any means. 

“Do you guys really think it’s that bad of an idea?” His face fell.

“It’s not… It’s not that it’s a _bad_ idea.” Mike started, trying to think of a way to phrase it. “It’s just… You’ve always been so driven. You always wanted to shoot for the stars and be the best you that you can be. Do you really-” 

“Do you really think the best me can’t drive a fucking cab, Mike?” Eddie didn’t mean to snap at him, he really didn’t. He sighed. “Sorry, it’s just… It’s something I like. I think it might be the only fucking thing in the world I actually enjoy, you know? It’s freedom. It’s easy. It’s something I’m good at and something I like. It makes me feel secure and relaxed. Shouldn’t I pursue something like that? Something that makes me feel good?” 

And with that, Bev and Mike had run out of arguments. 

“Okay.” Bev said simply. “Cab Driver Eddie Kaspbrak it is.” 

Eddie finally moved out of the way of the TV, dropping down to sit next to Beverly on the couch where she patted him on the back. Mike started up the show again. 

“On an unrelated note.” Beverly spoke to Eddie. “You’re in that photography class, right?” 

Indeed, Eddie was in a photography class. Not because he cared about the art form, but because it was something that seemed mildly interesting and filled in one of his elective slots. But he supposed it could’ve been worse - at least the class was fun, and it had really upped his Instagram game (He had surpassed six-hundred followers since he started taking the class, and he was rather proud of that number.) So, Eddie nodded to Bev’s question. “Why?” 

“You can rent the good cameras from the school then, right? I need to get some shots of the clothes I make for class and I was wondering if you’d do a little photoshoot for me if I provide a model.” 

Really, Eddie didn’t _want_ to do it. But he didn’t _not_ want to do it either. Plus, he always had a bit of a hard time saying no to Bev. So, he agreed with a nod of his head. “Yeah, I guess. When did you wanna do this?” 

“I was hoping this weekend? Depends if Richie’s free or not.” 

“No. No, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me Bev. Are you serious? Trashmouth Tozier?” 

That was the only name Eddie really knew Richie by, and although he had never met the bastard, he had already decided that he hated him. Seriously - what kind of idiot publicly called himself a _Trashmouth?_ Eddie thought to himself. He was always loud and obnoxious and somehow getting away with how great of a dick he had over the radio, in the middle of the day! Sure, other kids on campus seemed to love him, and Beverly was friends with him, but Eddie could not stand him. 

“Yes, Eddie, I’m serious.” Beverly rolled her eyes. “You can say no if you _really_ don’t want to hang out with _Richie_ but I just don’t know who else I’d ask…” A heavy sigh fell from her lips, and she batted her eyelashes. Eddie heard Mike chuckle, and glared at him. 

“Is this funny to you, Hanlon?” 

That made him really laugh, and he nodded. “Richie isn’t that bad, Eddie. It’s a persona he uses for the radio. It grabs listeners attention, for better or worse.” Eddie gaped at him. 

“So you’re defending him too? I thought I could trust you Mike!” 

Eddie knew he was being way too dramatic. He was just doing a favour for Beverly. He knew he wouldn’t have to talk to Trashmouth, or hang out with him ever again, and that he was doing this just for Bev… But he couldn’t help but feel like it went against everything he stood for. 

However, another look to the manufactured pout on Beverly’s face was enough to convince Eddie that it might just be worth it. He let out a sigh of defeat. “Alright, Bev.” 

“Thank you!” She cooed affectionately, giving Eddie a short hug before her attention was once again given to Zumbo on TV. Eddie let his eyes gaze over the screen and he sunk into the couch cushions, letting regret seep over him.

* * *

Eddie had almost forgotten about his arrangement with Beverly and the job he had agreed to. But Friday night he was met with a text reminding him to sign out a camera. Eddie had (hoped) thought that Beverly had forgotten, or perhaps cancelled the plan. Or maybe Richie did? But maybe that was a little _too_ hopeful. 

She woke him up at 8am, already dressed and pushing coffee into his hands. “C’mon Eddie. We’re meeting Richie at Sklar Park at nine. We need to get going.” 

Eddie sat up and groaned. “Why the fuck are we doing it so early in the morning?” He asked, but he didn’t complain about the hot coffee in his hands. He took a long drink from the mug. Bev always made good coffee. 

“Because the park won’t be as busy before noon.” Beverly noted, shrugging simply. “C’mon. Get dressed. I’m all ready to go.” 

Eddie huffed. “It’s like a 10 minute drive, Bev.” 

“And you take like, an hour to get ready.” 

Eddie couldn’t argue that. He shooed her out of the room and took his time to scroll through his social media while he finished off the coffee. By then, it was already 8:20 and he still needed to shower and eat before they left. He huffed, stretching out his limbs when he got out of bed and got his towel and went to go shower. He tried to finish up quicker for Beverly’s sake, not even bothering to blow dry and style his hair even though that meant it would curl at the ends in the way that Eddie so despised. But still, he dressed in a pair of khakis, a white collared t-shirt and a nice blue knit sweater. It was cozy, and to him, it matched how uninterested he felt in this. He picked up the camera bag and carried it out to the living room. It was 8:45 by then, and Eddie knew they weren’t going to make it to the park by 9, but Bev didn’t seem to be too upset by that. 

Eddie was thankful, but decided not to push it. Instead, he set about quickly making a smoothie for his breakfast, something he could bring with him on the shoot. By 8:52, he was ready to leave. 

“Sorry I took too long.” 

“Don’t worry. I doubt Richie will be right on time anyways.” 

Bev, in a sense, was right about that. Richie had seemingly showed up early. As they pulled up to the parking lot beside the park, Bev directed Eddie to park beside a white windowless van, the words ‘TRASHMOUTH RADIO’ spray painted across the side in red paint. 

“Oh my God, he’s going to kidnap us.” Were the first words out of Eddie’s mouth when he saw the offending vehicle. “Is this guy serious?” 

Bev rolled her eyes. “Oh lighten up, Eddie. It’s a fun van!” 

“Yeah, if you’re _into_ that.” 

Beverly didn’t dignify that with a comment, merely getting out of the car and collecting the clothes she had brought with her out of the trunk. Eddie picked up his smooth and got his camera kit out of the backseat, including the tri-pod he hadn’t bothered to bring into the apartment on Friday night. 

“Miss Marsh! Is that your lovely red locks I see?” 

The voice, of course, belonged to Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier. He was sitting on the table part of a picnic bench and wearing baggy jeans and a loose fitting Nirvana t-shirt. If it weren’t for the jeans, Eddie would’ve guessed he just rolled out of bed. 

“And is that your mess of an outfit I see?” Beverly responded, mostly seeming amused. 

Richie hopped off of his spot and stepped towards them, spinning around. “Well, I just thought it didn’t matter what I wore because Miss Marsh was going to be dressing me in the raddest threads she had to offer. Was I incorrect in that assumption?” Richie arched his brows. Beverly shook her head. 

“No you were not.” She started towards the van. “C’mon, Richie. Let’s get you dressed.” 

But instead of following her, Richie did what Eddie might consider the most unpleasant action that had ever been done to him. He wrapped his arm over his shoulders and gave him a squeeze on the arm. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your adorable little friend?” 

Eddie glared hotly at Richie, stepped away. “Her friend can introduce himself, thanks.” Nothing of Eddie’s words held any niceties. “Eddie Kaspbrak. I’m one of Bev’s roommates.” He explained - notably, not offering any real sort of greeting. Richie held up his hands in surrender. 

“Jeez, did she piss in your corn flakes?” Richie asked. Eddie didn’t answer. Richie let the subject drop, merely following after Beverly. Eddie could hear them talking quietly, and he imagined Beverly was apologizing for his behavior. Already, Eddie was starting to feel a little bad. He didn’t want to ruin this day for Beverly. Sighing to himself, he started to walk around, considering the sunlight and the lack of other equipment he had… He ended up setting up the tri-pod and the camera facing towards two trees. He thought he’d be able to pose Richie rather nicely between them. 

Although, Eddie was convinced Richie wouldn’t be able to do _anything_ nicely. 

He was _almost_ convinced otherwise when Richie came out of the back of his van, followed closely by Beverly. He was now wearing leather pants and a flowy silk blouse which Eddie could only describe as ‘vampiric’ - and in a way… Richie oddly made it work. He had taken off his glasses and the mess of curls still fell down into dark eyes over pale skin and it only made the look all the more fitting. For a moment, Eddie was entranced. 

Richie looked over Eddie’s camera set-up and stepped in between the two trees, leaning back against one of them. He brought his arm up to cover his forehead and let out a dramatic sigh. "Oh, Eds. I can't believe you're going to shoot me." 

The play-on-words was not missed by Eddie, who merely rolled his eyes in response. "Yeah, only this kind of shooting won't get you to shut up. How unfortunate." 

Beverly snorted a laugh, coming up to stand beside Eddie, looking at the view of Richie in the viewfinder. Eddie looked him over and thought for a moment. "Alright, Richie, I want you to just... Uh, lean against the tree like your posing for a senior photo. Like, arms crossed and smiling just to the left of the camera?" It was strange, Eddie found, having to direct someone to pose. But Richie seemed to be rather willing. He folded his arms and leaned against the tree, facing Eddie and Bev. He crossed his legs at the knee and looked aloof... It was actually a bit better than what Eddie had had planned. 

Of course, he wasn't going to vocalize that to Richie. Instead, he merely went about adjusting his settings on the camera, accounting for the light and the tones of Richie's skin before he started to take a few photos. He zoomed in at different points and altered his settings a touch before he forgot what he was doing. 

Eddie wouldn't blame himself for that. The lighting was nice, he was still a little tired, and Richie was being quiet as he posed against the tree. Occasionally shifting himself in a way that Eddie thought was _just right_ and took another picture of. The more he watched Trashmouth Tozier through the little screen of his camera, the more he liked merely looking at him... Just like this. His cheeks warmed at the thought. 

"Eddie?" Beverly broke the silence that had formed over the last five minutes. "Got enough of that outfit? Can I change him yet?" 

Right. There was other outfits Richie needed to wear... He wasn't just going to be a vampire the whole god damned time. His cheeks darkened and he nodded. "Yeah, go ahead." 

Richie pushed off the tree, stepping towards Eddie and Beverly. He stopped, studying Eddie's face and a shit-eating grin spread across his lips. "Yowza." Richie breathed out, his eyes still scanning over Eddie's features. "You just keep getting cuter and cuter Eds." 

This was not at all what Eddie had been expecting when he signed up for this. Worst than that, his stomach was fluttering at those words. An awful voice in the back of his mind saying _He thinks you're cute!_

During the time Richie and Beverly were gone, Eddie rationalized with himself that it was just because Richie was _physically_ attractive that he was getting this way. It had been a while since Eddie had gone on a date, or even really crushed on anyone aside from briefly falling in love with cute strangers he saw on campus or in the rear view mirror of his cab. Surely, it wasn't outlandish for Richie to just be another one of those strangers. Another straight boy with a pretty face and a mouth that he isn't afraid to run that will make Eddie blush and his stomach tingle but that he'll inevitably get over once he isn't in his presence and reality hits him again. After all, life wasn't like the Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfictions he read online. Richie was no Spike. 

It only got worse when he came back again.

Beverly was behind him, picking a loose thread off of the tail of the suit jacket. The pants were more or less like any other dress pants and had Eddie not known that Beverly had designed them herself, he wouldn't have guessed. Above that, Richie was wearing a simple dressed button down shirt, which again, he wouldn't have guessed to be designed by Beverly without prior knowledge. No, it was really the suit jacket that sucked the air out of his lungs. 

It was a deep blue velvet material with an ornate paisley design. It was subtle, and an absolutely gorgeous piece of material. When Richie walked over to Eddie again, holding out his arms and giving him a little spin - Eddie felt the heat rising in his cheeks again. On impulse, he raised his hand up to feel the smooth velvet over Richie's chest. Eddie was unaware of the smirk that graced the other boys lips. 

He brought up both hands to Richie's collar, undoing the top two buttons and carefully pulling them apart. 

"Now, Eds, if you wanted me to strip you could've just asked."

Eddie glared at him on impulse. "No, absolutely not. I'm just making you not look like a total dweeb." Beverly cleared her throat. "Not that the clothes are dweeb-y." Eddie quickly corrected. "Just... They look really good they're..." God, he was going to regret saying this, wasn't he? "They're sexy. You gotta own it." 

"So you're saying you think I'm sexy?" Richie asked him, licking his lips in amusement. Suddenly, Eddie was really starting to hate how attractive he found him. He hated the way that his stomach flipped at the thought of what that tongue could do to _him_. Oh God, what could that tongue do to him? 

"That is not at all what I said. I said the clothes are sexy. You're some... Fucking weird gangly monster with a fucking mop on your head and the most annoying personality I've had the displeasure of meeting." Because being mean was a proven Kaspbrak flirting method. 

 

"Well, jeez, Eddie. If you liked the guy so much you should've told me. Do you need a room?" Beverly's sarcasm was dry. "Be nice to my model. Okay?" The latter sentence wasn't to be taken lightly, and again, Eddie found himself feeling bad for his behavior. Was it really his fault if he lashed out in anger at the very suggestion of him feeling an attraction? ... Probably, yeah. 

"Nah, nah, don't worry Miss Marsh." Richie assured, giving Eddie's hair a little ruffle. "He's feisty. I like that in a guy." Richie winked, undoing another button of his shirt and stepping back towards the tree. "How do you want me this time, Eds?" 

"Can you please stop calling me that?" Eddie asked him. "My name is Eddie. Not Eds." Richie didn't comment. "Why don't you, uh... Lean your arm against the tree?" Richie did. "No." Eddie decided quickly. It didn't look quite right. This outfit was a little too formal for awkwardly posing around a god damned tree. "How about you just... Stand between the trees? Yeah, like that. Uh, put your hands in your pockets - the pants, not the jacket. And turn about... three quarters. Yeah, like that... God, I really wish we were doing this at golden hour." 

"We could just wait around until then." Richie suggested. He kept his pose as Eddie had directed him and found himself squinting a little with the sun in his eyes. "You don't seem to mind the idea of staring at me for hours, do you?" There was a certain knowledge to Richie's voice that Eddie didn't like. He also hated that he wouldn't mind taking pictures of Richie for hours, waiting for golden hour where he'd be able to get those just perfect photos. 

He decided to keep his thoughts (except for instructions on how Richie should pose) in his head from then on. Letting Beverly and Richie converse back and forth, talking and laughing at jokes that Eddie thought were hilarious but was too stubborn to show any sign of amusement. 

"So, I'm at this bar, right?" Richie begins. By now, Eddie has abandoned the tri-pod and Richie has changed into a different look. Now, he sits in the grass in a pair of board shorts and an orange tank top. Eddie pretends not to notice the lean muscles that are defined on his arms while he crouches down next to him, taking a variety of different photos. 

He also pretends not to notice that Richie has his glasses on now, and with the fact that he's able to see properly his eyes seem brighter and happier. Eddie doesn't acknowledge the gorgeous green colour that fills the iris and makes his stomach swoop. "And this girl comes in who I swear to this day I have never met in my life! Maybe she was some sort of crazy talker fan who fell in love with my incredibly charming voice. I dunno. Either way, she comes up to me and starts talking. And you know, I'm charming and friendly with her as I would be with anyone else, and I don't really clue in that she's a fan until she starts requesting Voices. So, I'm like 'alright, she definitely listens to my show, and she definitely has favourites.' But it's still not a big deal! I'm flattered! No red flags going off here even when the first Voice she asks for is Kinky Briefcase." This makes Beverly laugh loudly, and Richie join in. Eddie takes a picture of his laughing face and immediately decides that it is not a picture that he is going to share with Beverly. "So, I start doing it. You know, the usual. _'Ello love. Why, ain't you a lovely looking thing... I'd love to see the rest of you. Get up there baby and let Mr. Grey see you now."_ Richie is most certainly watching Eddie as he says this, and Eddie can't control the way his cheeks heat up or how he almost stands up to let Richie really see the rest of him. 

Eddie wonders if he would've done it had Beverly not been there. Either way, he's incredibly thankful that she doesn't seem to notice. She's too busy laughing at the poor James Bond-ish Voice Richie had put on. 

"Immediately! I'm talking without even a moment of hesitation, she stands up and spins around, wiggling that little tush of hers straight in my face! As though she's forgotten that we're in a bar - a completely public place - she doesn't even care! Now that's the moment where I'm really starting to think I'm in a pickle. But does Richie Tozier ever freak out? No! This girl must've only been like... 5'4"... I dunno, Eds, how tall are you?" 

Eddie is taken by surprise upon being addressed so directly. His cheeks are still pink from Richie's words from earlier and he had briefly stopped taking pictures to admire the smattering of freckles on Richie's face through the screen on his camera. "Eds?" Richie asks again when he doesn't answer. 

"Sorry, I wasn't answering because that is not my name." There is an artificial venom to his tone, and Eddie knows he isn't as mad as he normally would be in such a case. And while Richie doesn't know him well enough to recognize that, he can particularly feel the curious look he knows he's receiving from Beverly digging into the back of his head. "But I'm 5'5", why?" 

"She was the same height as Eddie!" Richie wasted no time in immediately jumping right back into his story. Eddie pursed his lips and resumed his photos. "She's 5'5" so naturally I'm thinking that worst case scenario, I could take her down. Then-" 

Eddie cut Richie off from finishing that sentence. "Do you have anything else you want him to wear, Bev?" 

He finally looks towards her, and she's sitting on the picnic bench. Her face had turned pink too, but unlike Eddie, she was pink from laughing. He envied her. "Nope. If you're finally done checking him out I think we're done here." 

"I was not checking him out!" 

Richie shook his head, a chuckle in amusement escaping him. "Don't worry, Eddie Spaghetti. I don't blame you for wanting to get a good look at these guns." He flexed his bicep and pressed a kiss onto it. "But alas, you're a little too late for this. For you see, I, Richie Tozier... Have a date!" 

 

"Oooo!" Beverly cooed immediately. "Who is the lucky guy or gal?" 

"It's a guy tonight, Miss Marsh." Richie explained, pulling himself up to stand. Eddie felt, from out of nowhere, a pang of jealousy spread through him. He didn't like the feeling at all. Why did it matter that Richie was now confirmed to be into guys? That didn't mean anything, really. Lots of people were gay. And Eddie still absolutely hated him, right? Of course right. 

It didn't mean anything that Eddie was actively reminding himself to hate Richie. 

"His name is Chris, he's a law student, and he's a year younger than us. But, he's really cute. And he's one of the nicest people I've ever met! I'm really excited to be going out with him tonight." 

"Is this a first date, ooooor?" Beverly inquired. 

"Second date. And hopefully, there will be a third." Richie's grin was contagious, evident by Beverly matching it. But Eddie only felt his lips being tugged in a frown. "Hey, hey, no need to look so sad Spaghetti Man. There are other guys just like me out there if you really wanted a taste of the Trashmouth." He teased, pressing a kiss onto Eddie's cheek. It didn't do anything to make him feel better. 

"Oh shut up. You're so full of yourself. And that is not my name!" Eddie snapped, but Richie only seemed to laugh it off. 

"Want me to give you your clothes back, Bev?" He asked, shedding off the tank top immediately. Eddie had to pointedly keep his gaze averted from all the newly exposed skin that he was itching to get his hands on. He instead flipped through the photos, coming back to the one of Richie laughing. It warmed his chest. 

"Mhm." She hopped off the table, the two fading out into a quiet buzz in Eddie's ears until they disappeared into the van. It was then that Eddie realized that he was completely screwed. 

The thoughts, of course, stayed tucked into his mind while he packed up all of his things and made sure they hadn't left anything behind. He picked up Beverly's phone for her too, going to wait by the car for her to get out of the truck. 

She did a few moments later, her and Richie both in a fit laughing about something. 

"Thank you again, Richie." She told him. "Text me all about this date tonight, okay?" She asked him with a grin. 

"Hey, anytime you need me Miss Marsh!" He promised. "But only if you bring your adorable little photographer buddy with you." He offered his hand out towards Eddie. "It was nice meeting you, Eds." 

"Still not my name." Eddie said, but he accepted Richie's hand. He had a firm handshake. "And I sincerely hope I don't have to do this again." 

Richie chuckled, while Beverly openly rolled her eyes. "I'll send you the pictures when they're ready." She told Richie. He thanked her for that, before going around to get into his car. Eddie and Beverly did the same. He let Richie pull out first and start out, before doing the same. 

"You really need to do a better job hiding your boners, Eddie." Beverly stated matter-of-factly. Eddie sputtered. 

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about." 

"Are you serious? You couldn't have been any less subtle!" She insisted, shaking her head. "I mean seriously, I mean, when you talked about him before I really thought you just hated his radio content or whatever but seeing you making heart eyes at him all day today? You've got it bad, Eddie." 

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. Could he not keep his feelings to himself? Was that really too much to ask? "I am not. And even if I was - _which I am not!_ \- he has a boyfriend, basically. So it doesn't matter." 

"He's going on a date! That hardly means anything." 

"A second date! Which means they both like each other! Which means there will be a third date and a fourth date and they'll be boyfriends and it doesn't matter anyways because I don't even like him. I hate him." 

Beverly, judging by the look on her face, was unconvinced by Eddie's insistence. But his ever-raising voice was enough to bring her not to push the subject. "Okay! Christ. Sorry I brought it up, Eddie. I just... I thought he might be good for you." 

Eddie immediately softened at that. He let out a small sigh. "No, I'm sorry... I shouldn't have snapped at you... Or him... It's just... I haven't dated anyone, Bev. While I'm out and comfortable with you, Mike, and Ben... It is _just_ you, Mike and Ben... I haven't told anyone else and I'm not sure if that's a step I'm quite willing to take just yet, y'know? Like, I can't date a guy before I even tell my mom that I'm gay. So, yes, while Richie is objectively attractive and I liked looking at him... I'm just not interested in that sort of relationship. And I'm being irrationally angry with you. I'm sorry." Eddie thought for a moment, that perhaps this was something he should pursue on his life goal of actually finding something that makes him happy. Coming to terms in really accepting himself. 

Beverly relaxed too, bringing a hand to rest lightly on his knee while he drove. The touch was friendly and comforting. "It's okay." 

And for a short while, Eddie believed it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of this fic! I'm so excited to get to collaborate on this with gilded_iris, one of my favourite authors on this site <3
> 
> Please let us know what you think in the comments! I'll be writing Eddie's chapters, while iris will be writing Richie's!


	2. Murphy's Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murphy’s law is simple: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. In other words, Richie Tozier has a bad evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings are in the end notes, but there's nothing too major.

Richie adjusted the salt shaker; Richie adjusted the pepper shaker. Richie adjusted the salt shaker and then Richie adjusted the pepper shaker. Richie rotated his glass. Richie moved his empty plate. Richie drummed his fingers. Richie unwrapped his silverware and put the cloth napkin on his lap. Richie took the cloth napkin out of his lap and folded it on the table. Richie unfolded the cloth napkin and put it back on his lap. And then he took it out of his lap again, folded it again, and put it back on his lap  _ again _ . He jittered his legs. He drummed his fingers. He took the cloth napkin out of his lap and wrapped the silverware back in it and sat it next to his plate. He rotated his glass. Richie adjusted the salt shaker; Richie adjusted the pepper shaker. And he did this again. And again. And again. And he'd done this a few times already, or really he'd done it a lot of times already. Actually, he'd been doing this for thirty minutes now and it was starting to get old. 

Richie stood up from the table. Richie left a five dollar bill behind for the coke he'd ordered and the fuss he'd surely made. Richie left the restaurant and got into his van. Richie cried for a bit. And then he drove home.

* * *

"I told you this would happen, Went, I told you!" _ Richie could hear his mom from the bathroom. _

_ Richie came home from his first day of seventh grade with a big red welt on his cheekbone courtesy of Henry Bowers. The right lens of his glasses was cracked and the frames were twisted. His nose was still bleeding. Bowers had gotten him good, hell, his whole gang had. Despite that, despite it  _ all _ , Richie felt better than he'd ever felt in his life. He was wearing jeans and grubby sneakers, his hair was all lopped off, and he'd tied a strip of cloth tight around his chest.  _

"Come on, Maggie. Richie needs us to hold it together for him, ok?"  _ Ah, good old dad, always there for him. Wentworth Tozier had been the first person Richie'd come out to, an obvious choice as they'd always been as thick as thieves.  _

"I can't do this, Went. I… God. I didn't sign up for this."  _ Mom. She was less amenable to the idea of her child transitioning. Richie knew how much she'd loved having a daughter. He'd been shoved into enough dresses and given enough lessons in housekeeping to know that much. When Richie'd finally gotten the courage to tell her the truth, that she'd never really had a daughter at all, she'd cried for days. That'd been the first big fight Richie caused between his parents. There'd been a barrier between Richie and his mother since.  _

"You don't mean that, Mags. When you were pregnant and people kept asking whether we were having a boy or girl, what did you tell them, huh? You said 'I don't care as long as it's healthy.' Why is it different now? Richie is our son. I know… I  know it's a hard idea to get used to, but we have to stand by him."  _ Richie turned the taps on hot and let the steam fog out the mirror and blur his reflection.  _

"You saw what the boys at school did! If she wants to dress like a boy, fine. If she wants to  _ be  _ a boy,  _ fine,  _ but not at school. We shouldn't have let her leave the house like that. You know what happened to Hilary Swank in  _ Boys Don't Cry." Richie rewrapped his bindings tighter – tight enough for it to be hard to breathe.  _

"Look Maggie, I know you're scared and I'm scared too. But first thing tomorrow morning, I'm going to storm that fucking school and I'm not going to leave until the boys who hurt him are expelled, alright?" 

"You think that's going to make things safe for her? There will  _ always _ be people who want her dead. Do you understand that? Dead! I don't know if you've noticed, but people around here don't exactly like people who are different from them."  _ Richie felt his breath catch in his already constricted chest.  _

"I will go after anybody who hurts him. I will make this world safe for my son, ok? But the support needs to start at home. It's hard for him–"

"Hard for  _ him?  _ It's hard for me!"  _ Richie heard his mom start to cry.  _ "I just don't get it,"  _ her broken whisper carried to the bathroom all the same.  _ "She was my little girl. I  _ miss _ my little girl. And God–"

_ "I can hear you!" Richie screamed. "I can fucking hear you!" _

* * *

Stan and Bill were gone when Richie got home. It was Friday night, of course they were gone. They probably had dates. Lots of people had dates. Not Richie, apparently. He checked his phone. His conversation with Chris was a whole lotta blue. A whole lotta  _ Where are you?  _ and  _ Do you want me to order you a drink?  _ and  _ Are you gonna show or what?  _ No grey to be seen. No dot-dot-dot. Radio silence.

Richie pulled the box of Lucky Charms out of the pantry and sat on the counter as he got to work. A bowl to the side, the box in his hand. And marshmallows.  _ Just _ marshmallows. A heart. A shooting star. A horseshoe. A blue moon. An hourglass. Plink. Plink. Plink. Into the bowl. Pure sugar. He deserved it. 

"Jesus Christ, Richie." Stan  _ was _ home, then. Richie grabbed a handful of marshmallows from the bowl and shoved them in his mouth. Stan groaned. "Do you know how disgusting you're being?" Stan snatched the box and Richie's glasses fogged up. "Shit, are you crying?"

"No," Richie cried. He put the bowl down and took his glasses off to wipe them clean.

"Come here," Stan pulled him off the counter and let him rest his head on his shoulder. Richie tears were surely staining Stan's shirt, but that was alright. "What happened? I thought you had a date."

"I did."

"Did it… did it go poorly?"

Richie glared at him and stuffed his glasses back on. "Yeah, Stan. Yeah, it went  _ poorly _ . Chris didn't bother to show."

"Oh." Stan looked around. He'd never been all that good at offering comfort. "Do you need help picking out the marshmallows?" 

Richie laughed. "Yeah." 

"Why don't you get changed? Maybe wash your face too. I'll sort the Lucky Charms and put something on TV, ok?" Stan gave Richie's shoulder a squeeze and offered him a smile.

* * *

_ Richie was alone in his dorm room for the very first time. It was a good fucking feeling. Sure, UMaine was only a twenty minute drive from Derry, but it was still  _ away _. Richie had wanted to go somewhere further from home and with his brain and his dad's wallet he could've easily gone to any elite school. Hell, he'd nearly accepted Bowdoin's offer, but here he was, at his parent's insistence, barely a stone's throw away from home. Still, it was time for Richie to spread his wings. _

_ He unpacked his record player and lined up his records. He had everything from The Big Bopper to The Ramones to Queen – pure rock'n'roll, baby. Besides, with his records on his side, Richie couldn't fail. He opened another box and pulled out his knick knacks and got to decorating – a slinky on his desk, a Wooly Woody by the lamp, a bunch of rubber chickens on top of his dresser, a line up of novelty sodas next to his comically overpriced textbooks. Where to put the Whoopee cushion collection? Under his roommate's mattress of course. The lightswitch cover that made the switch look like a flasher's winky? Installed. The box said,  _ Switch to Laughs, Turn on Your Friends.  _ That was a good way to get to know people, right? Richie topped off his decor masterpiece with his Buffy the Vampire Slayer bobblehead on his head board. And then the door opened and a very clean, very straight-laced looking boy opened the door.  _

_ "Oh my God," the boy said. _

_ "You must be Stanley Uris! The name's Richard Tozier, but you can call me Rich or Richie or even Dick if I like you. Welcome home!" _

_ Stan looked around with a neck so tense that Richie was sure the veins in his neck would pop. Richie might as well have said, 'Welcome to Hell,' if the look on Stan's face was any indication. Stan took a deep breath and set his suitcases next to his bed and started unpacking. As far as Richie could tell, his roommate had only packed the bare essentials.  _

_ "Gee man, that all you got?" Richie said with a laugh, fiddling with the slinky.  _

_ "I'll have you know that I'm a minimalist," Stan said, carefully hanging up his shirts. They were all nice, pressed, button-downs. Richie grinned.  _

_ "Ba dum-dum-dum dum dah," Richie sang, "Ba dum-dum-dum-dah!" _

_ "What are you doing?" Stan asked, eye twitching. _

_ Richie put on his best old-school TV announcer accent, "Can two divorced men live together without driving each other crazy?" _

_ "Divorced?" _

_ "Oh come on, I'm making a reference here! It's The Odd Couple! Felix and Oscar ain't got nothing on us! We're a match made in sitcom heaven!"   _

_ Stan just huffed and turned back to unpacking. Richie whistled The Odd Couple theme song for awhile longer and got back to work on his own boxes. He kept his eye set on one box in particular, the one his mother had so delicately labelled, 'Richie's Boy Things,' which could be more accurately named 'Richie's extra penis and three months worth of testosterone.' Richie looked over to Stan and then back at the box. He'd have to tell his roommate at some point, there was no way he could keep it a secret, but Richie couldn't help but want to delay the inevitable.  _

_ Despite being queerer than a three dollar bill and having a raunchy, hold-nothing-back sense of humor, Richie was far from eager towards outing himself as trans. The merciless bullying hadn't stopped after the first day of eighth grade, Richie'd just gotten better at hiding it. Now, in a new town, he found that he passed. He knew he shouldn't be obsessed with the notion, but as he'd gone through his transition each milestone of physical masculinity to develop in his body had sent a little, addictive thrill through Richie. He'd always been tall and slender-bodied and he'd been on T for nearing two years now. His voice dropped within the high end of the normal cis male range, the hair on his legs and stomach thickened, and when his parents announced that they were paying for top surgery for his graduation gift, the doctor had given him the good news that he was already small enough in the breast department to be a perfect candidate for keyhole surgery. So yes, he passed. He secretly revelled in walking down the street and being met with a  _ 'sup bro!  _ or an  _ excuse me, sir. _ Still, he'd have to be telling at least Stan.  _

_ Richie clutched his box and looked back at his roommate. He cleared his throat.  _ Now or never Tozier!,  _ he told himself,  _ rip the bandaid off! 

_ "Hey man," he said, "I've got to tell you–" Richie managed to trip over thin air and suddenly the awkwardness of trying to tell the stranger he'd be living with for the next year that he was trans was ripped away from him. Richie dropped his box and a half dozen hypodermics spilled out before Richie could catch them.  _ _ "Oh, shit."  _

_ Stan's eyes nearly bugged out of his head, he shot a furious glare Richie way and picked up the packaged needles. "No!" he yelled.  _

_ "No?" Richie paled. _

_ "Yes, no!" _

_ "What?" _

_ "Yes, I mean no. You cannot have drugs in here. Do you even know how serious the opioid crisis is? Do you know what would happen if someone caught you doing heroin on campus? Jesus, I'm calling housing–" _

_ "Housing already knows. I'm not a fucking junkie, the needles are for my medication, my  _ prescribed  _ medicine, ok? So why don't you back the fuck off?" _

_ A passing look of embarrassment flitted across Stan's face before he returned to a mask of unruffled seriousness. He eyed Richie skeptically and handed him his needles. Richie shoved them into the box before Stan could get a good look inside.  _

_ "You're diabetic, then?" Stan asked. "Because I've seen insulin needles before and those things are thin and short–" _

_ "Like your dick?" _

_ "–and your needles are long and thick–" _

_ "Like  _ my  _ dick?" _

_ "I'm not being funny!" _

_ "Ok, fine. The needles are for testosterone. Every week I shoot .25 mL of man juice into my ass muscles because I was born with the wrong set of diddly parts. Congratulations! You got me!" _

_ "You mean you're a tranny–" Stan caught himself and flushed bright red as soon as the word left his mouth, but it was too late. "Shit, I didn't mean–" _

_ Richie felt his jaw tense and he slammed his box onto his desk. "I'm transgender, not a 'tranny.' You know what? Fuck you. Do you have any idea how many times I've been called that? How many times I've had the shit beat out of me and had that word – that fucking word – thrown at me? I'm sorry if you have a problem with me or whatever, but you can eat shit, Stanley Uris." _

_ "I'm sorry. I swear to God, I'm so sorry." Richie looked into Stan's eyes. He wanted to hate Stan. He wanted to deck him flat to the ground – or rather he wanted to  _ want  _ that, but he found that he didn't. There was no hate in his roommate's eyes. Richie Tozier had stared pure, unadulterated bigotry down plenty of times before – he found none in Stan. "I've just never met someone… like you before," Stan continued, caution lining every word. "Can we start over? Please? I'm Stan and I'm really not an asshole, I promise." Stan extended his hand. _

_ "I'm Richie and if you ever so much as say that word around me ever again I will kick your ass inside out." Richie shook Stan's hand with a deadly tight grip. _

_ "Inside out? That doesn't make–" Richie glared at him. "Right, sorry." _

_ "All is forgiven _ _ ," Richie grinned and ran to his record collection. "Now! Should we listen to The Cramps or The Misfits?" He pulled out an album with a cartoon skeleton holding up a candelabra on the cover. Stan groaned and Richie put the record back. _

_ "Got any Gordon Lightfoot?" Stan asked. "Maybe some Simon and Garfunkel? Hall and Oates?" _

_ Richie fell into a fit of laughter, but he flipped through his collection and pulled out his copy of _ Sound of Silence _ , a gift from his mother, and set it on the record player.  _

_ He dropped the needle with careless precision, somehow managing to land at the very beginning of the album without looking. They finished unpacking in relative silence, but Richie found that it wasn't altogether uncomfortable. Stan, too, was growing more relaxed, that is until he finished making his bed and sat on it, only to procure an orchestra of six whoopee cushions deflating. Richie cackled in delight; Stan looked like he might have an aneurysm. Odd couple, indeed. _

* * *

Richie went to his room and grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from his drawer and locked himself in the bathroom. He kept his eyes glued to the floor as he turned the sink taps on as hot as they went and let the bathroom fill with steam, just as he'd had as a kid. Only once the mirror had become a big glass blur did he look up a it. He looked into the mirror and saw himself. Or rather, he saw a twisted version of himself, but that could have just been the fog. He rubbed a stripe of moisture off the mirror at eye level. He looked good. Really, he did. His hair was still styled from the shoot and it smelled like whatever product he'd let Beverly put in it. He was wearing a suit. An honest-to-God suit. No tie, of course, but a suit all the same. It was a loan from Beverly for the date. If there was one perk of being best friends with a fashion designer, it was definitely the perfectly tailored clothes. Richie wasn't exactly a fashion connoisseur – his personal wardrobe was a chaotic blend of band tees, shredded jeans, and billowy Hawaiian monstrosities – but the suit was nice and he knew that much. Richie rubbed his face and fiddled with the collar of his shirt. He'd left the top two buttons open. Eddie was right, it was sexy. Richie smiled as he remembered the nimble fingers working them apart.

He shucked off his blazer and left it in a velvet paisley mess in the corner of the bathroom. Beverly had given it to him from the shoot with an  _ I swear to God, if you get hot and heavy and let Chris tear this off, I'm going to have your head.  _ Richie groaned, but relented. He picked the jacket up, folded it, and put it to the side. He wasn't much of a folding kind of guy, but he'd do it for Bev. They were nice clothes, nicer than he deserved.  _ Alright kid, no more feeling sorry for yourself. So what? You got stood up. It happens to everyone. Surely. Except it doesn't. It's never happened to Stan, it's never happened to Bill, and it's sure as hell never happened to Bev. So what does that make you?  _ Chris was a good guy. He wouldn't just ghost him without reason. There was an awful, niggling little voice that told Richie that he knew  _ exactly  _ why Chris hadn't shown.  _ It's because– _

Then came the rest of the shirt. Button. Button. Button. He ran his fingers across his chest. Flat. Nice. He went to the gym a lot, or well he went sometimes. He was mainly just there to spot Stan when he had to train for baseball season. His attention span didn't allow for much more, but he pushed himself and in the last few months, he'd brought his max up to 170. Ss a result, his chest was filling out, in the good way this time around. His back muscles were getting thicker and his pecs were developing. He had a good chest, a  _ really  _ good chest. Sure he was still a string bean and probably always would be, but he had lean muscle and a nice spattering of hair to match. Minimal scarring. Enviable really. 

The pants were next. Richie undid the button, the zip, and took his penis out. He set in on the bathroom counter and stared it down. It was big. Stan had made fun of him when it'd come in the mail, it was the biggest size the website offered, and if Richie were telling the truth, he'd admit that it was a bit comical, but it was  _ his. _ And it'd given Bill a good scare when he'd left it out by accident. There were worse ways to come out to your roommate, right? Sure.

Richie splashed water on his face. He brought out a washcloth and scrubbed until his skin was pink and hot. Raw. He wouldn't cry, not again. Richie Tozier definitely did  _ not _ cry over boys. Surely! And yet.  _ It's because–  _ It wasn't, right? But it could have been and if Chris never bothered to answer the fucking phone Richie would never know. 

That was the moment Richie's phone decided to buzz. A text! An excuse? Richie debated whether or not he wanted to see what Chris had said, but his curiosity got a hold of him. He wiped his face off and grabbed his phone from the side of the counter. It wasn't Chris. Beverly had sent him a string of eggplant emojis and a question mark. He didn't answer. He wanted to be alone in the little bathroom he shared with his roommates. He had Bill's Axe Body Spray to keep him company, thank you very much. And himself, of course. Himself. His inescapable self, always on the other side of the damn mirror.

Richie'd watched the boy in the mirror grow into who he was now. A man. A man! Of course, of course. What else would he be? Richie frowned at his packer and shoved it back into his boxer briefs. He'd learned early on that boxer briefs were best for averting the  _ please God, don't let my penis fall out of the leg of my pants  _ shuffle. And besides! With them on, just tight enough to keep from shifting, he looked hot. He really, really did. He was good looking and he knew it. Of course he did. But he didn't. Or he did. It depended on a lot of things. The time of day, the weather, how close he was to his next shot of testosterone – there were a lot of variables curling around Richie's self esteem. Today it'd been sky high. Past tense.  _ Oh buck up! Come on kid, you're fine! You are! You are! You are! You are!  _ And he was. He had to be.

Richie washed his face again. And again. And again. His phone buzzed again. And again. And again. The damn emojis were out to get him. Richie relented when his phone started actually ringing. He sat on the edge of the bathtub and answered.

"What?" he barked.

"Yowch, Rich," Bev answered. "Is it that bad to hear from me? You didn't respond to my texts."

"Why are you calling?"

"I track your location, dumbass. When you didn't respond, I checked and saw that you were home. I know you, Rich. If you were getting laid, it would be at his place. What happened, Rich?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? You're home at nine on a Friday and you sound sad, something must've happened. Spill."

"Nothing."

"I don't buy it."

" _ Nothing  _ happened, that's the problem. I sat there like a goddamned idiot for thirty minutes before I finally had to accept the fact that he wasn't coming."

"That son of a bitch! He stood you up, for real?"

"I know, hard to believe," Richie laughed. He could be convincing. Hell, he made a living (as sparse as it was) out of convincing people his voice was something it wasn't.

"Don't do that." Ok then, maybe not so successful.

"Do what?"

"Don't play coy. You're sad. You're  _ allowed  _ to be sad. You know that right?"

"Why would I be sad? Chris probably just realized that he would spend his whole life with people thinking I was just his hot older brother. He couldn't take it."

"Richie."

"Bev."

_ "Richie."  _ Damn. Beverly was a stubborn chick and there was no helping it. "Do I need to come over? I can stop by the drugstore and get that ice cream you like."

"No, it's fine. Stan beat you to 'Cheer Richie up' duty. We're going to watch TV. I'm gonna try to get to bed early."

"You? Bed early? I don't know Tozier, sounds fake."

"Yeah, well. I don't have much else to do."

"Hey, fuck that guy, ok?"

"That's what I was trying to do!"

Beverly laughed on the other end and Richie let himself laugh too. It was nice. It could be nice. He turned the taps off and let the steam clear. 

"Well, I don't know what his deal is, but he's missing out."

"I know what his deal was."

"Richie–"

"I do!"

"You don't."

"Come on, Bev. It's because I told him, I  _ know _ it is!"

"Even if he did, that's not a reason to abandon you."

"Yeah. Great. It was so embarrassing, Bev." God-fucking-dammit, Richie was crying again. It was hard day. He was emotional. He was tired. Maybe ice cream would be good after all.

"I know, Rich, I know. But, it's Chris' loss. Whatever the reason, which let me remind you, you do not actually know, he's the one who's missing out. Besides, you've got half the campus lusting after you–"

"Yeah."

"You do!"

"Yep. Until they find out that I'm... I'm  _ not–" _

"Rich. Are you sure you don't want me to come over?"

"I'm fine. I am. My insurance changed the brand of T they give me last month and I've been fucking hormonal since."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Nope."

Beverly sighed. "So... this probably isn't the best time to tell you..."

"Tell me what?"

"Well, today's shoot went really well, don't you think? I mean you looked great, absolutely great. Amazing! You always do, Rich. It was really just a perfect day, great lighting, no overcast. The clothes were perfect, weren't they?"

"What are you getting at, Bev?"

"We're going to have to reshoot."

"What?"

"I got a text from Eddie. There was a problem with the memory card."

"A problem? What kind of problem?"

"Well, funny story! So Ben and I were cooking dinner and Eddie comes in with it and long story short the memory card ended up on the stove."

"You're fucking kidding me, right? Ben fried the memory card?"

"No! Nothing got fried! It was  _ sautéed." _

"Jesus, Bev. Why did Eddie think it was a good place to bring it into the kitchen in the first place?"

"Don't blame Eddie! He was just doing me a favor and he's an adorable little baby. I will go full mama bear if you go after him–"

Richie thought about Eddie's nervous fingers undoing the button of his shirt again. They'd been close enough to breathe each other's air. Richie grinned at the memory. "It's fine," he said.

"Yeah?"

"We all make mistakes."

"You... you want to see him again, don't you?" Richie could practically hear Beverly's smirk. 

"Like you said, he's adorable."

Bev squealed. "See! I knew you two would get along. You know Chris isn't–"

"I really liked Chris."

"I know. But Eddie–"

"Is a total closet case."

"He's working on it."

"Right. Besides, even if he ever did worm his way into the queerosphere he wouldn't want to date me. Look, I know baby gays and I promise that just as soon as Eddie busts down the closet doors, he's going to be looking for the first dick he can find."

"Eddie isn't like that."

"Whatever."

"Don't  _ whatever  _ me. Eddie and I are close, I know him. I think you guys would be cute together, that's it."

Richie sighed. "Well put me on the call list for when he decides to come out." 

"Alright, Rich. You promise you're okay for tonight?"

"I swear it." 

"Talk later?"

"Sure."

* * *

_ "You're Trashmouth Tozier, right?" Beverly approached him a few weeks into their freshman year. Richie had to bite back the smile of being identified as the campus' newest and totally raddest campus DJ. _

_ "In the flesh! To whom do I owe the pleasure to?" _

_ "My name is Beverly Marsh." _

_ "Nice to meet you, Ms. Marsh. Should I be signing an autograph for you now?" he laughed. _

_ "Christ no. If I pay you fifty bucks, will you come to my dorm, stand in front of a camera and let my buddy take some pics?" _

_ Richie fell out into a fit of laughter. "Are you asking me to be in your softcore porn?" _

_ "Oh my god!" Beverly's cheeks blushed as red as her hair. "No, it's not like that, I swear. I'm a fashion designer, or well I'm trying to be. I'm a business major and once I get out of education-limbo, I'm going to try and start my own fashion line. I'm looking for people to model my clothes, and well, you're hot." _

_ "My, oh, my. Gosh Almighty, am I flattered." _

_ "So, you'll do it?" Beverly looked at him with wide eyes that we're absolutely brimming with hope. Richie thought about it. He had a strange relationship with being photographed. His childhood was full of awkward pictures that he'd loved to burn if he knew they didn't mean so much to his mom. He hated that there was a record of him as someone he just wasn't, but maybe it was time to make a new record, an accurate one. He looked down at his ratty clothes and ran a finger over the brim of his glasses. _

_ "I actually don't think I'm model material." _

_ "You're kidding right? You're Trashmouth Tozier! My boyfriend and I listen to you every morning, you're Mr. Self Esteem!  I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't think you were attractive. Please don't turn out to be have the 'woe is me, I put on this big brassy image to hide how crippling insecure I actually am' mask. It's overdone." _

_ "Well, in that case, I'm never one to bore. Give me the fifty up and I'm your man." _

_ "I'll give you the fifty once you've done your job." And that was that. Richie knew in that moment that when it came to their friendship, Beverly Marsh would be the one calling the shots. _

_ The next day, Richie found himself at Beverly's dorm getting his measurements taken. _

_ Beverly tried to control her blush as she got on her knees to take Richie's inseam. Richie tried to control his mouth. _

_ "Ms. Marsh, aren't ya gonna buy me dinner first?" _

_ God bless her, Beverly laughed. She extended the tape with a moment of hesitation. _

_ "Which way do you dress?" she asked. _

_ "Uh, the normal way? I know I'm your celebrity crush and all, but Ms. Marsh I swear I put my pants on one leg at a time, just like you." _

_ "You're ridiculous. I meant which way do you  _ dress _ ," she eyed his crotch. "You know, how you hang?" Richie cocked an eyebrow. "Jesus Christ, you're going to make me say it, aren't you?" Richie nodded cluelessly. "Which way does your dick go when you put on your pants?" _

_ "Oh! Uh...." _

_ "Don't tell me I caught Trashmouth Tozier, king of dick jokes, off guard?" _

_ "Uh, no. Shit. Sorry." _

_ "Nothing to be sorry about. I worked at as a tailor throughout high school, I've learned not to be embarrassed. So which is it?" _

_ "Which is what?" _

_ "Right or left?" _

_ "Either way is fine." _

_ Beverly groaned. "I need to know which way you dressed this morning unless you want me to give you an accidental handy with my measuring tape." _

Alright Tozier. You knew this would come up when you accepted her request, you had to have known, but you can play it cool and lie low. You've been packing for years now, you're a goddamned peen expert, just tell her you pushed your schlong to the right. No biggie! Well, sure it is a biggie– Stay focused! You don't have to come out. You really don't. But Beverly's nice. Better yet, Beverly's  cool.  Besides, if it turns out she's a bigot, so what? Better to know now anyways. Take this opportunity and find out.  _ Richie looked to Beverly, and without a moment more of hesitation, he reached into his Levi's, adjusted himself, and pulled his silicone dick out of his pants and held it up with a shit-eating grin.  _

_ "There," he said, "now it's literally out of the way." _

_ Beverly's face fell into a strange look of shock. She looked between Richie and the packer for a few seconds, trying to comprehend what had happened.  _

_ "Did you..." she started, "Did you just... your penis... you... what?"  _

_ Richie laughed and handed her the packer. "It's silicone, my deah." _

_ "Holy shit! It's so realistic!" She gave it a cursory squeeze. "Not for nothing, for a minute I thought you legit ripped a flesh and blood dick off." She laughed, set the packer on the ground next to her, and took Richie's inseam as though nothing had happened at all. _

_ "So, uh..." Richie cleared his throat, "You're cool with it?" _

_ "What, that you're trans?" Beverly asked. Richie nodded. "Yeah, man. Why wouldn't I be?" _

_ "You still want me to model for you?" _

_ "Rich, you're the hottest guy on campus," Beverly confessed. "Besides Ben of course," she tacked on with a laugh, "and he's more of a behind-the-scenes guy anyway. I'm not gonna make you model if it'd make you uncomfortable–" _

_ "I'm not uncomfortable. Like you said, I'm the hottest guy on campus." _

_ "Mmm-hmm. And what's more, you're humble too." _

_ "Damn right! I like you Ms. Beverly Marsh." _

_ "I like you too, Mr. Richie Tozier." _

* * *

When Richie emerged, he found that Stan had taken his commandeered job very seriously indeed.  On the coffee table was a spread of fastidiously separated Lucky Charms. Not only were the marshmallows separate from the cereal pieces, but Stan had gone one step further and separated the marshmallows into their own bowls.

"You know, Stan, the whole point of picking the marshmallows out of the box is rebellion, right? It doesn't taste as sweet if it's done all proper and shit."

"I think you mean, 'thank you.' I'm sorry not all of us were grubby little boys who stuck our hands into everyone's food to pick out the sugar as a kid."

"Were? I am a grubby little boy, thank you very much." Richie took the bowl of marshmallow hearts and poured them into his mouth. Stan groaned. "What? It's thematic! I'm eating my heart out! Literally!"

"You are so gross."

"Yeah, but you love me."

"God help me."

"Admit it!"

"Ok, ok, Trashmouth. I love you dearly, alright?"

"There it is!"

Richie planted a sticky kiss on Stan's cheek. Bill staggered into the apartment before Stan could reprimand him.

"Stan! Ruh-Richie!" Bill beamed and pulled them both into a hug, dropping his wallet and keys by the door gracelessly. Richie laughed, but hugged him back all the same.

"What's up?" Richie asked, amused.

"Yuh-you would not believe how cheap drinks were tonight at Frisky's!"

"Going by the state of your breath, I'm going to say they were probably pretty damn cheap." It was true, Bill might as well have been exhaling pure ethanol. Richie would never admit it, but he was secretly relieved to find that Bill was coming home early and alone – if only to find solidarity in their singleness.

"They were! I d-d-drank so much tequila, Rich. So. Much."

Stan rolled his eyes and ushered Bill to the couch.

"Does this mean I should be getting a bucket? You know, I didn't exactly plan on babysitting both of you tonight," Stan tutted.

"Oh can it, Stanny," said Richie. "Hand me the cereal."

Bill's eyes blew wide in shock and awe as he took in the arrangement.

"Holy hell! St-Stan the Man! Did you do this for me?"

"No, I did it for Richie."

"M-m-m-man, I thought I was the only one who picked the marshmallows out."

Stan looked scandalized. "You do it too? I live with a bunch of toddlers, I swear to God."

"Oh live a little Stan, everybody does it!"

Stan scowled.

"Ok, ok, ok." Bill took the bowl of horseshoes and shoveled them into his mouth.

"You're going to make yourself sick." Stan said, grabbing the bowl from him.

Bill laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard for only a moment before his face turned green. He turned over and heaved freeze-dried marshmallow onto Stan's lap.

"Oh my God!" Stan cried. He shoot up and a sticky vomit sludge ran down his worsted pants. He stripped to his underwear in record time and balled his pants up in disgust.

Richie rolled over in his seat laughing, but a sudden twinge of discomfort rang through his abdomen and for a second he thought that he might be sick too. Stan was too busy with Bill to notice.

"Let's get you to the bathroom," Stan said, helping Bill up, "Come tomorrow you are buying me a new pair of pants."

"Ughhhh my st-stomach hurts."

"Yeah, I got that. Now if we can move you to the bathroom without you blowing chunks again that would really make my day." Stan herded Bill to the bathroom and shot Richie a look.

Richie tried to smile but his stomach twisted again. It was a deep ache, not queasy, but somehow familiar. He put on a stupid movie on Netflix and tried to kick back and focus, despite the noises in the bathroom. If they were any indication, Bill would probably be spending the rest of the night with his head in the toilet bowl. Stan was a good friend when it came to things like that. Richie only wished that he didn't need the comfort right now.

* * *

_ "Hold still!" Stan demanded as Richie jittered his leg. They were all standing together in the bathroom of their newly rented apartment: Richie with his sweatpants rolled down his hips, Stan with a long, thick needle in hand, and Bill carefully uncapping a vial of testosterone. It was a routine now, funny and awkward, but a routine all the same. Stan and Bill were always on duty to help Richie get through his injections. It'd grown to be just another part of their lives as roommates. Bill did the grocery shopping, Stan kept the kitchen and bathroom clean, Richie made them all dinner every few nights, and once a week they all got together to stick hormones in Richie's ass cheek. Intimacy is the cornerstone of friendship, after all. _

_ "I hate needles," Richie insisted and turned away as Stan rubbed an alcohol pad over his exposed gluteus medius. _

_ "You s-s-say that every time we do this," Bill laughed and took the needle from Stan, drawing up the exact dosage. _

_ "That's because it's true every time! God, I can't believe you thought I was a junkie, Stan," Richie said with a nervous laugh, avoiding making eye contact with the needle as Bill gave it an attentive flick to rid it of air bubbles. _

_ "St-Stan thought you were a junkie?" Bill asked. _

_ "He sure did!" _

_ "Give me a fucking break," demanded Stan. "Besides I came home last week to find you, Bill, and Bev doing LSD together, so I wasn't too far off." _

_ "W-w-we offered to share!" said Bill, handing the needle back to Stan. _

_ "I'm sorry that I actually value my ability to operate sober-minded." _

_ "Oh come on, Stan the Man! Don't ya want to know what it's like to let your hair down? Besides you should try cumming on acid. Boy oh boy! I mean you should've just seen how long–"  _

_ Stan took the opportunity to jab Richie with needle. _

_ "Ow!" Richie howled and gripped Bill's hand tight enough to hurt. "Stan the Man, listen up because I will only tell you this once in my whole life, but please be gentle when sticking things in my ass!" _

_ "B-b-beep-beep," Bill said, stifling a laugh. _

* * *

Thirty minutes had passed and Bill was still sick in the bathroom. The discomfort in Richie's stomach had turned into true pain. Gut grinding. As it worsened,  a wave of encroaching horror fell over him.  _ You know what it is.  _ He turned the TV up.  _ Don't you remember, Rich?  _ Bill retched in the other room.  _ Can't pretend it isn't there, kid.  _ Richie clenched the couch cushion tight in his hands and grit his jaw as he felt a warm wetness collect in his underwear.  _ It's just discharge. Gross, unpleasant, but totally normal discharge. That's all. So what if it feels like your ovaries are playing tetherball with each other? It's just discharge.  _ It wasn't just discharge and Richie knew it. 

He looked to the bathroom door. Closed. Locked. Light on. Bill audibly sick inside. Not for the first time, Richie cursed the fact that their apartment only had one bathroom. Richie turned off the TV, steeled himself, stood up carefully, all the muscles in his body shaking, and stuck his hand into his underwear. He pulled his finger back and was met with the sight of blood. Blood. It was thin and brown, but it was menstrual blood all the same. His breath started heaving, his chest tightened, and Richie felt a new wave of tears prick at his eyes. It seemed that an increase in emotional vulnerability wasn't the only side effect of the new brand of T he'd been put on. He felt like his knees might buckle beneath him.  _ Let them. Fall to the fucking ground. Fall into a goddamned black hole.  _ It'd been three and half years since Richie had last found blood in his underwear. 

If Richie Tozier was anything at all, he was a self-made man, and that was a fact that he took great pride in. He let himself blossom in college. Suddenly the world was wide open to him, full of opportunity and life. He'd done well enough in high school to earn a scholarship that covered most of his schooling expenses and as the son of a small town's only dentist, his parents were wealthy enough to pay the rest. They'd take the bill for his share of rent too, not that he'd ever accept it, oh no. Because that was thing. He wanted to be self-made in every since of the word. He'd already taken an ego hit letting his parents pay for his top surgery, but he was intent on doing the rest all by himself. The radio-money didn't cover much else and so Richie'd jumped at the chance of a lower copay for his meds. Now, it felt as though the world was collapsing beneath him. 

Richie forced his legs to carry him to the kitchen where he washed his hands in burning hot water. He kicked the under-sink cabinets as hard as he could with his thinly-socked feet. When he saw that he had not so much as scuffed the damn thing, he kicked again. And again. And again. Until finally, Stan popped the door to the bathroom open and yelled at him.

"I know you're having a bad night, but could you please not take it out on our apartment?"

Richie sniffed up an angry string of snot and glared at Stan. "I need the bathroom," he said.

"Tough luck. Bill's really sick–"

"I said I need the bathroom."

"Too bad, Richie. If you have to shit, you're going to have to take it somewhere else." 

Richie slammed his foot again and broken the cabinet off its hinges.

"Are you fucking serious?" Stan asked, eyes blazing. "That's a $1000 security deposit you're taking your anger out on, you know that right?" 

Richie wanted nothing more than to tell Stan what was happening, but as soon as he opened his mouth to try and say the words, his throat closed up and his lip started wobble. Stan huffed and closed the door to the bathroom as Bill started to heave again. Richie refused to let himself cry. He tore off a few sheets of paper towel with shaking hands and shoved a makeshift pad into his underwear. He threw on a pair of shoes, grabbed a coat, wallet, and keys and mentally prepared himself to buy something that he'd thought he'd never need again.

* * *

_ Richie started his period in the second half of eighth grade. He'd tried to hide it, to pretend it wasn't there, but he didn't make it two days before he broke down and told his mom. He came to her when she watching TV and his dad was still at work. _

_"Mom," he said, pulling on the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Ever since the Bowers incident on his first day, he'd taken to hiding in a thick hoodie, riding the line of androgyny and swearing to himself that one day he'd be able to be himself out in the open. He would stay up late and stare at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers his dad had helped him put up when he was in third grade and scared of the dark after he'd stayed up late and watched to watch_ Stephen King's Silver Bullet _on TV. On those restless nights, he would let himself imagine what kind of man he would grow up to be. He'd be funny, surely. He already_ was _funny, but he knew that one day he would_ get to be _funny._ _For now, whenever he so much as opened his mouth at school it was quickly pounded shut by Henry and his goons. To them he was a_ dyke bitch _and a punching bag._ One day, _he swore to himself,_ I'm gonna be so tall and strong that I'll be able to beat up any of those guys. I'll get up in their face and grab them by the shirt collar, spit in their eye, and cock my fist back just to really drum the fear of God into their hearts and then I won't hit them! That's right. I'm gonna be so fucking funny and so fucking nice and I won't hit anybody just because I can.

_ "What is it, dear?" Maggie asked without turning away from her show.  _

_ "I..." _

_ "Yes?" _

Spit it out, Richie. Just spit it out. " _ I got my period." Maggie turned the TV off and looked at him with wide, pitying eyes.  _

_ "When?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper. _

_ Richie bowed his head. Suddenly he couldn't help himself, tears started dripping down his face with nothing stopping them. "A-a-a few days ago," he hiccuped. "I was in English and I got really bad stomach cramps and so I went to the bathroom and it was just _ there _ in my underwear. I didn't know what to do, mom," he sobbed. "And there's a tampon machine in the bathroom at school and I bought one b-b-but I didn't know how to use it and I just wadded up toilet paper and mom  _ I just don't know what to do."

_ "Honey, you should have called me," Maggie said, standing up and trying to pull her son into a hug. He flinched away from her. _

_ "You hate me," Richie whispered. _

_ "Hate you? Sweetheart, I don't hate you." Maggie echoed, her own tears threatening to fill. _

_ "You hate me!" Richie screamed, full of tears and snot. "I know you do! You don't understand me, mom! You don't even try! All those boys beat on me on school, but you know what? It doesn't hurt half as bad as the way you make me hurt! And you hate dad because he still loves me! You hate me so much that you have to hate him too." Richie crumpled in on himself. "And now I'm bleeding and I don't know what to do and dad wouldn't know what to do either and I can't tell the teachers at school and you're the only one I can tell but you fucking  _ hate _ me." _

_ "I love you, honey–" _

_ "No you don't," Richie cried. "You don't even look at me! I hear you when you talk to dad, you call me a  _ 'her' _ and you've never even said my name!" Maggie opened her mouth but Richie continued before she could say anything, "My  _ real _ name. Not the dumbfuck pet names you've been calling me since I came out so you can avoid saying my name." _

_ "Sweetie–" _

_ "I'm not  _ sweetie _ , I'm Richie. Call me Richie!" _

_ "I don't hate you. I've never hated you. You're my child and I love you so much–" _

_ "Say my name!" _

_ "Honey–" _

_ Richie turned and ran up the stairs. Maggie went after him, but he slammed his bedroom door in her face and threw the lock before she could touch the doorknob. He collapsed on his bed and screamed into his pillow. His mom pounded on the door. _

_ "Let me in!" _

_ "Go away!" he yelled, his voice raw. _

_ The knocking stopped and the air fell silent long enough for Richie to wonder if she'd turned around and left. Somehow, that made him hurt even worse and he doubled over in another round of sobs. His body was hurting, he was bleeding, and he wanted nothing more than to have a mother to help him. _

"Richard," _ the word came careful and soft from behind the door. "Richie, I'm sorry. I swear to God I've never hated you. I just... I didn't know what to do either. They don't exactly tell you that this can happen when you have a kid... You were right when you said that I don't understand you. I want to, Richie. I really do. And your dad… it all just comes so fucking natural to him." Richie had never heard his mom curse before. Somehow that was what made him stop crying. "I want to be better, Rich. Can I call you that? God, where did you even get the name Richard?" she laughed. "It's a good name, don't get me wrong. The nickname suits you better, though. Is it from the comics? Richie Rich? I remember how much you loved those comics as kid. Remember when you were a little kid and you'd come grocery shopping with me? God, you were so hyper that I'd have to buy you a bag of chips or something to eat while we went shopping and people would look at me like I was just this awful mother, but I knew that it was the only way to keep you from pulling everything off the shelves. And then I'd finally get all the shopping done and we'd be checking out and you'd have finished your chips by then of course so you'd always grab those little  _ Richie Rich _ comic digests off the rack with your greasy little fingers. I tried forever to get you interested in  _ Betty and Veronica _ or at least just  _ Archie _ , but it was just  _ Richie Rich  _ with you. You were always different, Richie. Always so different, but I never didn't love you. From the moment they had handed me you all bundled up for the first time in the hospital I loved you so much it hurt. I know these last months have been awful for you... did you really mean it when you said I hurt you worse? I'm trying. God, I can't believe you didn't feel like you could come to me... it makes sense though. I'm sorry, hon– Richie. I want to be better. I promise you, I'm  _ going _ to be better. I just... I didn't see it coming at all. When you came to me and told me you had to tell me something, I could've sworn that you were going to tell me that you were a lesbian. I'd always thought that that's what you were. Always such a tomboy... but I wasn't expecting you telling me that you're... you're my son. Richie, I know I haven't been the best mom, but let me get to know you as my son. I love you so much." _

_ Richie stood up and slowly, carefully opened the door. He let his mother hug him.  _

_ "I love you too, mom," he whispered into her shoulder. _

_ Later, when Wentworth came home and things had started to settle down, Maggie made a run to the grocery store and bought her son sanitary pads, ibuprofen, a pint of ice cream, and a _ Richie Rich _ comic book.  _

* * *

 

Richie had run out of fucks by the time he got to the 24 hour drug store. Somehow the weather had decided to flip from it's morning fresh crispness to an awful biting cold. The blood was seeping into his paper towel pad and his packer felt sickeningly sticky. He couldn't shed the paranoid feeling that he was bleeding through the seat of his sweatpants, no matter how many times he assured himself that he was fine. Richie double parked his van and flicked off the meter too.

He nearly bit his thumb nail off in anxiety as he made the long march to the 'feminine hygiene' section. The day had been kicking him down and the labelling of the section was really just the icing on the fucking cake. He forced his hands to stop shaking and clenched his fists hard enough to leave crescent moons. 

_ Alright, Tozier! You can do this! So what if this aisle is one big fucking stretch of pink and purple? It doesn't matter! You like pink and purple! It doesn't mean anything.  _ Richie wanted to cry. He wanted to city down on the stupid carpeting in the stupid drugstore under the stupid fluorescent lighting and just let himself bawl. He should have told Stan and Bill. He should have called Beverly. Hell, he should have just driven to her apartment and made her do the work from there, but he didn't want any of that. Richie felt that this was something he had to do on his own. Self-made man and all the bullshit. 

Richie stood in front of a seemingly endless line of products and just stared for a bit. By some grace of God the store seemed to be mostly empty, but Richie still felt like he had a million eyes on him.  _ Ok, Rich. Man up and buy yourself some motherfucking maxi pads. Eye of the tiger, got it?  _ Richie went to grab the most discreet option he could find, but his hand snagged the edge of one of the boxes and suddenly a whole row of them fell off the shelf.  _ Fuck! Fuck! Fuckity fucking fuck!  _ Richie's face heated to an impossible degree as the few other patrons turned to stare at the commotion. Richie grabbed one of the fallen boxes and didn't bother fixing the rest. He tucked the box under his arm and shuffled to self checkout as quick as he could.

"Item not scanned!" the machine announced as he ran the box under the scanner. He tried again. "Item not scanned!" Again. "Item not–" Again. "Item–" Richie gave up and threw the box into a shopping bag. "UNEXPECTED ITEM IN BAGGING AREA!" The machine screamed at him. Richie grabbed the roots of his hair and suppressed a scream. He was about to make a break for it as the world's lamest criminal, but a cashier stopped him. 

"Sir," she hissed, "you have to pay for that." She took the pads and brought them to the register. She popped her gum as she rang him up. "You know, I'm not all that surprised. Whenever guys come in here trying to buy period products for their girlfriends they're always flustered. I don't know what it is, I mean for Christ's sake it's just blood. You know girls have to do this every single month and then guys like you are asked just do it once and you make a big deal out of it. Can you imagine what it would be like if guys were the ones who got periods? I mean it'd be a whole other story then! Guys give girls so much crap–"

"I'm in a hurry."

The woman looked affronted. "Oh, well then, Mr. Thinks He's So Important, I'll get off my soapbox if it's so important to you." She looked at the register. "One box of generic brand extra-strength maxi-pads. Is that all?"

"Cigarettes."

"Huh?"

"Give me a goddamn pack of Marlboro Red before I shoot myself in the fucking face."

The clerk put the cigarettes in the bad next to the pads with a sneer.

"You know there's no reason to use such language. Your total is $18–"

Richie slammed a twenty on the counter and snatched his bag.

"Keep the fucking change," he called as he hurried out the door. 

Richie made it outside just in time to watch a tow truck drive away with his van. The words, 'TRASHMOUTH RADIO' got smaller and smaller as Richie fell to his knees outside the drugstore.

"Fuck!" he screamed after the truck. "Fuck!" he screamed at the store. "Fuck!" he screamed at the meter. "Fuck!" he screamed at his phone as it started to ring. "Fuck!" he screamed at the glowing stars.

He didn't want to see any of his friends, not when he was ugly crying in the middle of the street. He was about to breakdown and call his mom to make the minuscule drive from Derry to pick him up and take him home for the weekend. She would do it, there was no doubt in his mind. She would probably yell at the clerk if he told her what'd happened, she'd surely go down to impound lot and scream at those fuckers, and she'd definitely track down Chris and give him hell. He pulled his phone out to dial his number when he caught a cab in the corner of his eye and decided to hail it instead. He rubbed his eyes, reset his glasses, and got into the car, bag of pads and cigarette swinging behind him. Before the driver could ask for a destination, Richie was talking. 

"My good man," he said as the British Guy, " _ dahling,  _ you would not begin undahstand what I've been through this evening–"

Eddie Kaspbrak turned around from the driver's seat and locked eyes with Richie. 

"Richie?"

"Eds?"

  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: references to physical violence towards a trans person, use of a slur, incorrect pronoun usage, trans man getting a period
> 
> Thanks for reading???? Leave a comment and a kudos?????


	3. sometimes the world isn't so scary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie goes on a date.

"Ben..." Eddie said slowly, lifting his fork out of his stir-fry. Across the table, Ben couldn't clearly see what the problem was, so naturally, he was a little confused about the look that Eddie was giving. 

"Yeah? Is there something wrong?" He asked - the worry evident in his voice. 

"Why is my SD card in the chicken?"

There was a beat of silence around the table. Eddie, Bev, and Ben exchanging looks while Mike took another bite of his food. There was no computer chips in his dinner, at least.

In a moment, Eddie was getting up from the table, wiping down the card with a paper towel, and sticking it into the adapter before plugging it into his laptop. The card was, as expected, unreadable. Eddie let out a string of expletives.

"I can... I can buy you a new one?" Ben offered uselessly.

Eddie didn't blame him though, he couldn't blame him. As much as he wanted to have someone to blame for this - well, it probably was his fault, in truth. He probably shouldn't have left it on the kitchen counter while they had been cooking but... It was too late. "That... Don't worry about it, Ben." Eddie decided, giving a shake of his head. "It's not your fault. It's okay it's just... We have to redo that shoot, Bev. I'm sorry."

Eddie saw Ben's eyes drop. Disappointing Bev was somehow worst than disappointing him. Although, that didn't appear to be the case. Almost the opposite, actually. She looked almost amused as she wrapped her arm around her boyfriends shoulder and pressed an assuring kiss onto his cheek. "It's fine, both of you. The shoot was fun! Richie won't mind doing it again, I'm sure. As long as you don't mind, Eddie?" 

Of course, Eddie didn't mind. He still considered himself to be partially responsible, and tossed out the SD card before returning to his plate to finish his meal. Bev and Ben talked quietly, and Eddie could've sworn he heard Bev _thank_ Ben for frying his card. But he must've been imagining it, right?

* * *

After a nap, and his usual Buffy fanfiction fix, Eddie got ready to go out and drive around for the night. He dreaded the night shifts over the weekends. His cab all too frequently getting puked in or drunken couples seeming to forget that they're in the car of a stranger and that it is not the most appropriate place to whip out your dick. But, at least he made good money, and patrons tended to tip better when they were intoxicated.

Two hours in, and Eddie had driven four people around and already made $90. Eddie was rather satisfied with the amount, even if he was only going to keep a fraction of it. Eddie still enjoyed the act of driving. Especially now, when his cab was empty and he could drive around wherever he wanted until he got called in, or someone hailed him down. 

It would seem that the latter would happen first. He had barely noticed the guy standing at the curve having a mental breakdown. Not until he started to wave down his cab. Eddie pulled over, opened his mouth to ask where he was headed when an all too familiar voice spoke from the back. 

Well, it wasn’t very familiar. But the cheap British accent was something that Eddie knew in an instant. He turned back to face him, blinking in surprise. “Richie?” 

“Eds?” 

There was a beat of a pause between them, unwilling concern flooding Eddie’s face. Clearly, something was wrong, but Eddie wasn’t sure if he knew him well enough to ask what was wrong. He didn’t know… He didn’t know what to do about this situation. “I-” He closed his mouth. “Are… Are you okay?” He asked. 

Richie hesitated for a moment, before shaking his head. “No, I’m really not, Eds.” The accent had disappeared by then. He shifted uncomfortably. Eddie noticed Richie’s eyes dropping down to his own crotch. His legs pressed tightly together. “Can you just… Can you just drive me home? I need to get home.” 

Eddie wasn’t stupid. There was evidently something wrong, but god, he had no fucking idea what it could be. “Do you need anything?” He asked him, looking over at his passenger side. Eddie opened up his glove box. “I have water and-” 

“Do you have any napkins?” Richie asked him suddenly. 

Eddie wasn’t sure what was meant by that, but he took out a tissue box from the compartment and offered it towards Richie. Immediately, he took the box from his hand and started pulling out tissues until he had a healthy handful. Eddie watched as he unceremoniously shoved the handful of them down his pants, shifting them around before he pulled them out. There was a minuscule amount of blood on his hand when he pulled it out. Richie wiped it off with another tissue which he shoved into his pocket. 

“Holy shit!” Eddie shouted, his eyes wide as he tried to process the information that had just passed before him. He unbuckled his seat belt, unsure he was going to be driving anytime soon. “You’re bleeding.” 

“Yeah, I am.” 

“What the fuck happened to you?” 

Richie fell silent, as though he were considering what he could tell him. “It’s nothing, Eddie.” For the first time - Eddie hated being called that. “Just get me home, _please._ ” He was pleading with him. 

Every part of Eddie was screaming for him to ignore the request. To get into the back of the car and figure out what the hell was the matter with Richie. But, he didn’t. The tears burning in Richie’s eyes made Eddie’s stomach twist uncomfortably, but he complied with his request anyways. He took in a deep breath, and turned back around in his seat, redid his seat belt, and started to pull away from the curb. 

“Where are we headed?” 

“Turn left at the next lights.” 

And they continued like that, Eddie being silent as Richie directed him towards his apartment. When he pulled up to the building, Richie was already reaching for his wallet. 

“How much do I owe you?” Richie asked him. 

“Nothing.” 

“Eds-” 

But Eddie wasn’t hearing it, shaking his head. Again, he unbuckled his seat belt to turn around to face Richie. “Don’t worry about it, Richie. I don’t need your money.” He promised him. Richie looked like he was about to argue, but as Eddie continued to stare him down, Richie relented, pushing his wallet back into his pocket. 

“Thank you.” 

The counter read a fee of $15, but Eddie turned it off, sealing his decision. Richie properly relaxed at that. 

Eddie watched him for a moment longer, Richie’s hand on the handle and his eyes locked on Eddie’s too. Eddie wished he could read him better, because he had no idea what was going on in his head. He had no idea what was going on in his own head, why he was so desperate to comfort this guy that he barely knew - that he had been so convinced he hated. 

“Eddie?” Richie asked him. His voice cracked. “Can you do me one more favour?” 

With how crazy this whole ordeal had been, Eddie had absolutely no idea of what was going to come out of Richie’s mouth. Eddie had never considered himself to be a risk taker. He stuck to his guns, he did whatever was comfortable, and it was so unlike him to say “Of course.” 

“Please don’t tell Beverly about this.” 

_Oh._ Eddie hadn’t been expecting that request, but it was probably the easiest one for him to deal with. He gave him a nod. “Yeah… Yeah, my lips are sealed.” 

“Thank you.” Richie told him again. “I’ll… See you at the next shoot, Eds?” He asked. 

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, of course.” Then, he paused. A detail that had slipped his mind suddenly coming to the forefront and making him fill with worry, and a small burn of jealousy start in his stomach. 

“Didn’t you have a date tonight? Did… did something happen?” His voice dropped into a whisper, as he thought the implication would be more than enough. 

Richie smiled sadly, shaking his head. “The guy didn’t even show, Eds. Don’t worry about me… I’ll be fine now.” He assured him. Richie finally pushed the door open. He hesitated a moment, before shutting it behind him. He gave Eddie a wave, and Eddie watched as he headed into the apartment, the plastic bag bumping against his thigh as he headed in. Eddie waited until he was out of sight. 

Throughout the rest of the night, Eddie makes one-hundred dollars, and even as customers filter in and out of his cab, all he can think about is Richie. It’s at 4am, when Eddie finally crawls into his bed to go to sleep, that he really thinks about how screwed he is.

* * *

It’s two days later, when Eddie finally makes the decision that he had been dreading for far too long. 

He liked to believe that it wasn’t because of the fact that he couldn’t get Richie out of his head over the past couple of days, but even he knew that wasn’t completely the case. He knew that this boy was having some sort of crazy effect on him and it was going to drive him insane if he didn’t do something about it. 

It had been easy for Eddie to not acknowledge his sexuality because he had never really been… interested in someone. Dating had always been a prominent fear for him. Ever since a young age, his mother had actively discouraged him having any real connections of other people. It took him a long time to learn that not everyone in the world was out to hurt him but… Dating was harder. Dating was scary. 

But then, there was _Richie_ and suddenly the thought didn’t seem as scary. Despite how obnoxious he was, and how little he knew, Eddie found himself falling _hard_ for the Trashmouth. And it seemed to strike him out of nowhere. 

Out of curiosity, Eddie thought he’d try a date. Something non-serious. Something that would just… Get him on a date and (hopefully) help him relax to the idea. So, Eddie did what must’ve been the scariest thing in the world. He installed Grindr onto his phone. 

It took him much longer than necessary to build up his profile. He took too long to decide on a username (eventually setting on EddieK4 - as EddieK, EddieK1, EddieK2, and EddieK3 were all already taken) and even _longer_ to search up and down his Instagram profile to pick his favourite photo of himself. Eventually, he decided on a photo from the waist up of him leaning against a mural in the city. Mike had taken the photo, and the lighting had been beautiful that day. Finally, there was his ‘about me’ section. He wasn’t really sure what to write there… So, he settled for a basic _Hey! I’m Eddie! I’m 20 and I’m a student at UMaine! :)_ That would be enough… Right? 

With his fate sealed - Eddie created his account, and was presented with his homepage, and _wow_ was this ever the opposite of what he had expected. 

The majority of photos that people had were shirtless, many of them not even containing a face. His eyes filtered over them one by one as he got more and more flustered with each passing photo. When he came to one that was just a picture of a guys crotch in his briefs, the outline of a hard erection clearly on display, he panicked and closed out of the app. 

Then, the first notification came in. From a user known only as **RockingRon25**

_**Hey ;)** _

The message on it’s own was completely innocent, and Eddie hesitated before clicking it. He was considering replying up until he saw the guys profile picture. Like so many others, it was merely a photo of his abs, a dark line of hair trailing down into a pair of Calvin Kleins. Eddie shuddered, and in a panic, he blocked the user.

His experienced continued on in the same fashion for a short while longer. He messaged a few guys who's pictures actually showed their faces, but he was met with either boring responses, or requests for nudes either way.

Just as Eddie was about to give up all hope for the app, a shining light came in the form of **spark47302.**

_**Hi there! How are you? :)** _

The message was completely non-threatening, but Eddie didn't trust it quite yet. No, he didn't trust it until he looked at Spark's profile, which was a perfectly innocent picture of him grinning, in what looked to be a park. His profile didn't have much information either, simply stating his age (21), that he was also a UMaine student (a business major), and that he wasn't looking for hook-ups.

Yeah, this guy was definitely more Eddie's speed.

**_Hey! This app is driving me crazy lol! How about you?_** No, no that was awful. Eddie erased that and thought it over again. **_Hello! :D_** No, that was so much worse. Try again. **_Hey I'm doing alright. Hbu?_** Eddie hesitated, but figured that nothing he could think of would be perfect - he sent it off. A few moments later, Spark was typing out a response.

**_I'm okay! Trying to navigate my way around the app, haha! I was worried you wouldn't answer me because I have my shirt on._ **

**_I only answered you BECAUSE you have your shirt on._ **

**_What a relief!_ **

Eddie read Spark's message over again, considering what he could say in response. Ugh, how lame was that? Barely into a conversation with this guy and Eddie was already out of ideas on what he could say? How pathetic could he get? He bit his lip, his thumbs hovering over his keyboard as he tried to think of just something - anything - important that he could possibly say to this guy. 

**_My name is Carter by the way. :)_ **

Carter. The name didn't hum in his chest the same way Richie's did. He said it aloud, and it didn't have the same rise and fall of Richie. 

Why the hell was he still thinking about Richie? He was supposed to hate him! 

He wondered if Richie was okay. 

 

Eddie groaned to himself, and forced his way through the next message. **_Nice to meet you, Carter. I'm Eddie (if you didn't already guess.)_**

**_Hi Eddie! What are you studying?_ **

Eddie supposed he could answer, but it wasn't like the answer was anything at all interesting. It was something he was starting to regret, even going to school in the first place. It wasn't like he needed to go to school to learn how to drive around a god damned taxi cab! He minimized the app, electing to message Carter later, when he wasn't going to get himself so frustrated over nothing. 

Mindlessly, Eddie opened his texts, hardly thinking about the message he wrote out until he sent it. **_How's Richie doing?_ If anything, Eddie had been planning on being quiet about his attraction towards Richie purely on the grounds of not giving Beverly the satisfaction of being right about the situation.**

****

"You okay?" Eddie heard Ben ask from the other room, and he groaned. Most of the time, Eddie absolutely loved living with his roommates... But it was times like this where he sincerely wished he lived alone. At least that way he wouldn't do idiotic things like this and embarrass himself. 

"I'm fine!" He called back out to Ben, and thankfully, wasn't met with further questioning. He was, however, met with a barrage of questioning texts from Bev. 

**_yea why????_ **  
**_do u wanna see him??? ;) ;) ;)_ **  
**_u excited for the next shoot eddie???_ **  
**_i mean if u want his number i could give it to u........_ **  
**_so long as u admit ur into the trashmouth!!!!_ **  
**_cmon eddie dont be shyyyy_ **

It was just as Eddie suspected, which made it all the worst. While it was _incredibly_ enticing to just say it so he'd be able to get Richie's number - that would mean admitting to Beverly, which would go against his whole goal of being lowkey about this. Which, he had already done by asking about Richie. 

**_It's not like that. I just wanted to know because_** Wait. Eddie erased the message. He couldn't tell Beverly that excuse, because he had promised Richie that he wouldn't tell Beverly about it... And now thinking about it only made Eddie want to talk to Richie even more. He wanted to check in on him... But was it worth his pride? 

**_Can you please just give me his number, Bev?_ **

Eddie paused - watching Beverly's grey typing bubble pop up, disappear, and then pop up again. He couldn't imagine what was going through her mind at the moment, but he hoped to whatever force was watching over him that she'd have some pity and just... Give him the number. Sure enough, her next text was a phone number. Eddie thanked her, before saving the number, and sending a message.

**_Hey Richie. It's Eddie. Bev gave me your number, I hope you don't mind._ **

It sent as an iMessage, and from there, Eddie sat waiting, staring at the screen for the message to change to read, or for that text bubble to show up and signal that he was going to get a response from Richie, but so far, Eddie was having no such luck. He frowned to himself and stayed staring at the screen until his phone locked. He tried to take it as a sign to have some patience, but moments later, it was lighting up again with a notification. Excitement filled him, only for a moment, as he saw it was another message from Carter.

**_Eddie?_ **

Immediately, Eddie felt bad for ignoring him. He opened up the chat conversation again to message him back. **_Sorry! I thought I hit send - my bad. I'm studying General Arts and Sciences, but I'm generally pretty bored with it :P How do you like business?_** And just like that, it was so easy to fall into conversation with Carter. Immediately, Eddie really liked that about him. Perhaps it was the disguise of the phone screens between them, or because everything about him was so gentle and non-threatening that Eddie felt like he wasn't talking to a real human, but rather something to absorb all of the feelings he was grappling with. And absorb it Carter did. It wasn't long until Eddie found himself feeling comfortable enough to tell Carter about some of his fears. Naturally, Eddie was vague on the details, but he explained that he was really nervous about approaching dating, and that he wasn't even fully out of the closet yet. And Carter was nice and accepting of it. He even expressed praise for Eddie trying to push himself to be more comfortable with his identity, and the words were immediately comforting.

**_We should get a coffee sometime._** Carter asked. **_If you want, that is._**

 

Oh yes - Eddie did want that. Not just because Carter had effectively made him forget entirely about Richie for an hour, but because it was nice to have someone to talk to.

For the last year, Mike had been Eddie's top choice to confide in, but no matter how hard he tried... Mike just... Well, he wasn't gay. He could try and try to understand how difficult this was for Eddie to grapple with, especially with having no mentors with the same experience. So, talking to Carter... It made him feel a certain level of security that he never felt before.

**_I would love to! When are you free?_ **

**_I'm free tomorrow afternoon? Say... Three-ish?_ **

**_That sounds great! Maybe the Starbucks by the library?_ **

**_Sounds perfect. I'll see you then! :)_ **

**_See you then, Carter._ **

He didn't respond after that, but that was okay. Eddie had a date! A real honest to God date with a boy! A sweet boy who wasn't going to pressure him into anything. Someone who already understood him, someone who Eddie was looking to be his friend- 

No. No, that wasn't what Eddie was supposed to be looking for. He was supposed to be looking for a date! A real honest to God date with a boy that he might consider _dating!_ If he wasn't doing that, then this was just... It was all for nothing! Eddie rolled over in his bed, pressing his face into his pillow. Why did it have to be so hard? Why did the idea have to scare him so god damned much? 

He rolled over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as though the blank space would somehow offer answers to his questions. His phone buzzed from beneath his pillow, where it had ended up during his brief little fit. Eddie pulled it out - Richie had answered him.

**_Well well well eds I didn't think I'd be hearing from yooooouuuu anytime soon to what do I owe the pleasure????_ **

The flirtatious tone of the message shouldn't have surprised him, but the more Eddie thought about it, the more like Richie it seemed. 

Like Richie, as if he had any concept on what Richie was really like. 

**_I just wanted to see you were okay... After whatever happened the other night._**

There was another long pause before Richie answered that message, which didn't surprise Eddie too much. He waited patiently, unsure of what Richie was going to have to say to that.

**_Everything is just fine now eddie spaghetti but thanks for asking how are you doing?_ **

**_My name's not Eddie Spaghetti. And I'm doing good._ **  
**_I'm going on a date tomorrow._ **

He didn't know why he told this to Richie. There was no reason to try and make him jealous... There was no reason to tell him that. Richie wasn't even a friend of his! Before he could think of something else to say - Richie had beaten him to the punch, swooping in with his next text response.

**_Well that comes as no surprise with someone as cute cute cute as you who is the lucky fella??? Is it someone I would know????_ **

**_Maybe? He goes to our school. His name is Carter._ **

**_Last name?_ **

**_I'm not sure_ **

**_What? How do you not know??? Did you meet him on tinder or something???_**

**_No_ **

That technically wasn't a lie, right? They _hadn't_ met on Tinder... Richie just didn't know how close he was to the truth. 

_**Right of course how foolish of me youre gay it was grindr wasnt it??? ;) ;)**_

Eddie didn't like how the tone sat with him. He didn't like Richie explicitly bringing up he was gay like that either... It only occurred to Eddie just then that he hadn't even told Richie he was gay. Either he was more obvious about it than he though or... He was going to kill Beverly Marsh.

_**Shut up!!! How else are you supposed to meet someone these days?**_

_**By doing photoshoots for your fashion designer friends?**_

Eddie's cheeks immediately darkened at that. He hated how easily he reacted to Richie's remarks, and was only thankful that he wasn't around to see the way Eddie was grinning like an idiot at such a simple thing. That was flirting, wasn't it? That had to be flirting! Eddie felt giddy, like he was getting asked to dance in middle school! 

_**Yeah, I'd love for Bev to get a good looking model one day.** _

_**YOWZA! Eds gets off a good one!!!!!** _

_**There's more where that came from, Trashmouth!** _

_**Be careful now eds keep that attitude up and I might just fall in love with you**_

For a moment, Eddie was tempted to come up with another scathing remark, his stomach fluttering with butterflies and his cheeks beet red.

_**If only I didn't have a date** _

_**Oh! If only! Truly a missed opportunity for me however will I go on???**_

The theatrics made it evident that Richie was joking, and Eddie honest-to-god laughed out loud. Not a big rolling laughter, but a small little giggle to himself. There was no hesitation in him typing out his response.

_**You don't. You're stuck suffering with the tragic loss of me for the rest of your life!** _

_**O woe is me!!!!**_  
_**Anyways I heard about your fried memory card and that really sucks do you know when we're gonna have the second shoot?**_

_**I dunno. I'll have to ask Bev, but probably this weekend? You ready to get modelling again?**_

_**And parade around of you in a bunch of hot clothes??? Hell yeah Im ready!!!** _

Again, Eddie was sure the flirtatious words meant nothing to Richie - but they were meaning the world to him. Maybe it was a throwaway thing for Richie, but he was the first guy to really flirt with Eddie. To know about his sexuality and make him laugh and smile and blush. The experience was completely new and exciting, and in a strange way, he was thankful for it. The more Richie ran his mouth, the more prepared for his date with Carter Eddie felt. He also felt more eager to meet with Richie on the weekend, but that was beside the point. 

**_So I’ll see you then?_ **

**_AYE AYE CAPTAIN!_ **

The sign off actually made Eddie laugh aloud, and he rolled his eyes in amusement, before getting up and heading out his room. He left his phone behind, and didn’t check it again until a few hours later when he went to bed.

* * *

The next day, despite his date not being until three, Eddie still woke up bright and early and took his time to get ready. He took a long shower, he borrowed a face mask from Bev, he spent far too long picking out an outfit (jeans and a red henley). Eddie took his time, eating breakfast, brushing his teeth, and styling his hair to have it perfect. Was it perhaps a little too much effort for a simple coffee date? Maybe. But maybe Carter would be worth it as well. 

At 2:45 exactly, Eddie left the house, texting Carter to say that he was on his way. Carter didn’t answer right away. That was okay, Eddie decided immediately. He couldn't expect Carter to be on the ball right away, right? Didn't he say he had work anyways?

Eddie took in a deep breath, trying not to psyche himself out.

At 3:03, he ordered his coffee and at 3:06 he was sitting down at the table, checking his phone for the sixth time that afternoon. There was still nothing from Carter, and Eddie was starting to get worried. His one hand was used to scroll through his phone, flipping between different social medias, while the other brought his cup up to his lips every few moments for him to take a sip.

_Relax, Eddie. It's only 3:12, he's going to show. He might've just gotten held up. It's fine. He said 3ish, not 3 exactly. Take a breath. You're not being stood up._

And yet, the worry filled him until 3:19, when Carter finally messaged. Eddie exhaled audibly.

**_Sorry I'm late! My sister was visiting and I lost track of the time! I'm on my way now and I'll be there in 10 minutes? Hope you didn't leave <3_**

The words assured Eddie, and he felt his shoulders drop as he relaxed. **_No worries, haha! I'm still here. Take your time!_**

Thankfully, Carter didn't take his time. It was under ten minutes when he finally walked into the Starbucks. He and Eddie shared a knowing look and a wave, and then he was up to the counter order his drink. When he finally sat next to Eddie, his stomach flipped.

"Nice to meet you, Carter." Eddie greeted, a little uncertain of himself as he offered his hand over for Carter to shake. If he found it strange, he didn't say anything, shaking Eddie's hand in return with nothing by a smile on his face.

"Pleasure is all mine, Eddie. I hope I didn't keep you here waiting for too long?" It came out as a question, and Eddie was quick to assure him that he had hardly been waiting at all, and Carter didn't need to worry. From there - the conversation seemed to flow as easily as it did over text. He made Eddie laugh, and blush, and feel confident in himself. He didn't really 'come onto him' as it were, which Eddie appreciated, but he was also positive that he was sensing some mutual interest between them both. 

He really hoped he was, because by the time that it was 5:30, and they were finally parting from the Starbucks to end the date, Eddie didn't want to go.

"We should do this again. Soon." Carter suggested, and Eddie felt his chest warm up. Was it ridiculous to fall in love with someone so quickly? 

Absolutely. 

"Yeah!" Eddie agreed. "Yeah, I really... I really liked hanging out with you, Carter." 

"Me too." Carter gave him a warm smile. "Do you want my actual number? You know, stop talking through Grindr?" 

To this, Eddie also agreed and the pair exchanged numbers. Eddie sent off a text to Carter (just a smiling emoji) and noticed he had a few texts from Richie. He ignored them for the moment.

"Do you need a ride anywhere?" 

Eddie was suddenly immensely thankful that he had walked to the Starbucks. 

"If you don't mind, I'm just like, a five minute drive from here." 

And the extra five minutes with Carter wasn't something he'd ever replace. His stomach was fluttering by the time he was profusely thanking him and stepping out of the car. "I'll text you tonight?" Eddie offered. 

"I can't wait." 

Carter had waited until Eddie was in the building before pulling away.

It was when Eddie was in the elevator that he finally checked the messages he got from Richie.

**_Hey I swear I'm not stalking you but I just saw you on your date and fuuuuuuck the guy is CUTE!_**  
**_Seriously if you don't bang him I'm gonna be pissed!!!!!_**  
**_Oh oh oh oh you're getting up_**  
**_And I can't see you anymore fuck oh well I hope you get the dick down you deserve eds!!!!_**

The texts, despite the vulgarity, made Eddie laugh. The elevator dinged open and he stepped out, barely paying attention to where he was going as he texted Richie back. 

**_No!!!! I don't fuck on the first date, actually. I'm heading home now._**

He opened the door, not surprised that it was unlocked. He was, however, rather surprised to find Richie standing in his living room, topless, and in a pair of jeans with pins lining the sides, and Beverly sitting between his legs. The sight shouldn't have been as attractive as Eddie was finding it. He didn't want to take his eyes off of Richie. 

"Oh, hey Eds!" Richie greeted, not missing a beat. " Guess you're not getting dicked down, huh? Shame. Guess I could always do it for you though." He wore a bright grin. 

"Don't call me Eds." Eddie said immediately. "And, I think I'll pass." Even though his gut wanted him to say otherwise.

"How did the date go?" Eddie was thankful for Beverly asking, breaking up the tension that Eddie was pretty sure he was just making up. 

"It was good! Really good, Carter is... He's totally amazing." 

"Yeah? Tell me about him?" Richie asked. 

And that was where Eddie stopped - that should be an easy question, right? Just say literally anything that they had talked about today, but for some reason... Eddie couldn't remember a damned word of it. He remembered laughing, he remembered Carter making him blush and smile, he remembered watching the curve of his lips and how cute it was whenever he pushed his hair back, but... Eddie could not remember _actually_ listening to him. 

"He's uh..." He swallowed awkwardly. "He's really nice. And he's funny!" 

"Funnier than me?" Richie asked. 

"Yes." _No._

"Hm. Not sure if I believe you, Eds. But, I'll be nice. I'll give you the benefit of the- OW!" 

"Sorry!" 

Eddie took the little slip to turn his back to the pair. "I'm gonna go... Take a nap." It was a little forced, and Bev seemed to pick up on it. 

"A nap. Sure." She teased - the suggestive tone making Eddie's cheeks warm up. 

"Keep it quiet, Eds. We're trying to get work done!" 

"Still not my name!" Eddie called out, letting the door fall shut behind him before Richie could get in another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter seems uneventful compared to the last, but sometimes... It's gotta be that way :P Things are gonna pick up soon, I'm sure! But, I hope you all enjoy this chapter nonetheless! Thank you!


	4. Cracked Actor

It was a beautiful day for a photo shoot, Richie supposed. Although he had a way of never quite noticing when it was a beautiful day. Richie Tozier lived for the night. Why shouldn't he? Days were boring. Classes and lunches and the stupid sun. What was there to love? No, it was the night that really had it. First there would be dusk before the night really began and the sky would fall into a lavender paint stripe across the horizon and the sun would melt across The Strip downtown – where all the UMaine kids go their kicks, of course. The night really was just so much better. Late night drink-a-tons at Frisky's with Bill (and Stan too, although those were less frequent) and an increased opportunity for mischief, night time was the apotheosis of the college experience. At least this was the case Richie was trying to make to Bev over the phone. Night time was all high-living: rock'n'roll and clubbing and city lights and–

"Jesus Christ, Richie. This is Orono we're talking about, not New York City." No dice. 

"Oh come on, Bev! I love you dearly and you know that I respect your artistic judgement, of course, but I really think that we ought to shoot at I don't know, five or six or so. Golden hour, right?"

"We already made arrangements! Eddie's in the bathroom, as we speak, borrowing my hair dryer so he can get all cute for you–"

"For me?" Richie's heart stopped just for a second. "Nevermind, it doesn't matter. Tell him that we have to move the shoot to tonight."

"And what if he's busy? It Saturday for Christ's sake–"

"You know as well as I that Eddie Kaspbrak doesn't have any plans for Saturday night outside of work." Richie thought for a moment. "Unless… he isn't seeing that Carter creep again, is he?"

"Creep? Carter's cute. Eddie showed me a picture." 

"I'm sorry but they met on  _ Grindr,  _ for fuck's sake!"

"Uh, you fuck guys on Grindr like all the time."

"Yeah, but that's the thing! I  _ fuck  _ guys on Grindr. Nobody goes on dates with guys on Grindr. That's just perverted."

"You're jealous, aren't you?" Richie could practically hear the mischievous smile that surely sat on Bev's face. He did his best to ignore it. 

"Ppppf. Jealous? Who? Me? How did we get on this asinine topic in the first place?"

"Asinine? Rich, you only pull out the big words when you're flustered."

"Shut up!" Richie felt his blushing cheek burn into the side of his phone. "I'm not flustered! And you're just trying to get me away from my point. Night time is better. Period. Point-blank."

"Nah-ah. Last time we shot was the perfect time of day. God! Those pictures sure came out great–"

"Until you decided to serve them up for dinner, right? Look I know you want to shoot in the morning and I know I'm being a flake, but I'm busy."

"Hmm. And busy with what? Because I know that you don't have a shift today."

"I have a doctor's appointment."

"Okay, we can work around that. What if I took you to your appointment and then we went to Sklar park right after?"

"I'm getting my van back as soon as the impound lot opens in thirty minutes. Bill and Stan are taking me."

"Even better! Just meet Eddie and I at the park after your appointment."

"No, Bev, ok? My appointment is all the way in Portland. It's gonna take most the day so if you want to shoot at all today, it's gonna have to be after four."

"Are you seeing Dr. Basey?" Dr. Basey, of course, was Richie's endocrinologist. Over the past two years, Beverly had accompanied him to a couple of his appointments. He didn't want her to come this time. Of course, he also didn't want her to know that he didn't want her to, which complicated the matter. 

"No."

"Really? So you just so happen to have another medical appointment three hours away? Rich, you know that makes no sense. Unless it's something so embarrassing that you don't want to run into anyone you know– Holy shit, you have crabs don't you?"

"Crabs? Jesus, Bev. I'm going to see Dr. Basey, ok? Congratulations, you got me."

"Richie you're acting weird. Why didn't you just tell me? And didn't you just see Dr. Basey like a month ago? Is everything ok?"

"Everything is just fine. Peachy keen! I'll go to my fun little appointment and then I'll be back in town in time to do your stupid shoot."

"Ok, but I don't want to get stuck at the park after dark. How about you meet us outside The Blitz at four? Sunset's at five thirty tonight. I'm pretty sure I can get Eddie to go along with it."

"Sounds good, Bev."

"He does, doesn't he?"

"Shut up!"

 

* * *

 

"You know, I never believed in true love before I met you. Hell, when I first saw you, I still didn't. But then I thought I'd never see you again. And you know what? I'm ready. I love you. You hear me? I really, really love you." Richie kissed his van. 

"Should we say something?" Stan asked Bill. 

"N-n-no. Let them have their m-moment."

"I missed you so much, babe," Richie cooed, taking out his keys. "I'm gonna slide these in now, okay?"

"Alright! Now it's officially creepy," Stan said as Bill fell into a fit of laughter by his side. "Beep-beep." 

"Oh don't beep me! I missed ol' Trashy, what can I say?" Richie smiled at his van. It was a classic Econoline piece of shit, but it was all his. "I can't believe I let her rot in this lot for six nights all by her lonesome." Since his car was towed away the week before, Richie'd taken up all the extra shifts he could get plus tutoring plus side hustles  _ plus _ digging around for loose change between all the couch cushions in a desperate attempt to scrounge up enough money to pay off the $800 fee all while the storage cost climbed each day. Finally, Bill and Stan intervened and insisted that they all split the bill before Richie had to dip into his savings. "I'll start paying you guys back when my paycheck comes in."

"No need," Bill said. "Stan and I t-talked it over and we d-d-decided that you don't have to pay us back."

"Yeah. We figured that you've driven us around enough that we owe you at least that much in gas."

"Bullshit," Richie said. "I'm paying you guys back."

"You really don't have to!" Stan insisted. Richie squinted at him, trying to figure out his angle. "It's our gift to you," Stan continued, voice wavering a bit and oh. That was it. Underneath Stan's eyes sat a little puddle of pity. 

Still, Richie was intent on seeing it out. "Why would I want a gift? It's not my birthday." Stan averted his eyes and kicked at a loose piece of gravel in the lot. Richie turned his attention to Bill. Good old Bill, who wouldn't dare be so spineless. "Why, Bill?"

"We know w-w-what happened l-last week."

"And what would that be?"

"Y-you know."

"Yeah, but I want you to say it."

"No, Richie. You d-don't want me to say it. But you w-w-want me think that you d-do so I will, but you d-don't so I won't." Well that was certainly enough to throw Richie off his game. 

"What?"

"I know you, Richie. And I know that right now you want an excuse to get p-pissed off at me and St-Stan because you're upset and y-you don't know how to deal with it. You got your period, ok? Stan f-found pads in your r-room and w-we figured it out pretty quick after th-that."

A hot whip of anger lashed inside him. "Stan had no right to go into–"

"There it is, R-Rich. I told you that you d-didn't want m-me to say it. And n-now that I  _ have _ said it you're all r-r-ready to pounce and say that the only r-reason we're helping with the van is because you think we p-p-pity you or that we feel g-guilty because we didn't notice the n-n-night it started. You want to get m-m-mad at us because it's easier to be mad at p-p-people than it is to be m-mad at the world. But g-g-guess what? We don't p-pity you and we aren't guilty. We're helping you p-pay for your st-stupid van that you seem to be weirdly in love with b-because we love you. Ok?"

Richie's frustrations seemed to melt at Bill's words, even if only just a little bit. He looked at Bill and knew that like some many times before, his friend's words were law. There was something about Bill (when he didn't have his head half-buried in the toilet bowl, of course) that rang with unwavering leadership. Richie could never stay mad at him. He turn to his van and ran his fingers over it's painted side. 

"Thanks," Richie relented and looked at his watch. "Now, I'm very grateful for everything, my dear boys, but I've got to be in Portland in a couple of hours so I'm gonna need to get this show on the road."

"What's in Portland?" Stan asked, innocently enough, although it was clear he already knew.

"Well since good old Auntie Flow decided to return, I figured I ought to go get some things checked out."

"You're not going alone, are you?"

"I'm a grown man, I can go to the doctor by myself. Besides, it'll take most of the day."

"Oh c-c-come on! It'll be f-fun if we all g-go. A r-roadtrip, you know?"

And that's how Richie found himself in his van thirty minutes later with Bill and Stan double-buckled together in the passenger seat with the long road ahead of them.

* * *

 

Richie sat on the exam table, fidgeting. The nurse had come in and taken his blood almost two hours ago and he was starting to go bugshit with boredom. Bill was reading the latest copy of  _ Fantasy & Science Fiction  _ in the corner while Stan took a phone call outside. 

"You know Billy, I don't get you. You have a subscription to that rag and I know for a fact that you've read that very issue cover to cover twice already. So what gives?"

"W-well it's b-better than nothing, r-r-right? My phone d-died in the car and s-since you drive an antiquated M-M-Mystery Machine, I couldn't exactly ch-charge it in there." Richie frowned too. His own phone had died before they'd even gotten on the road to Portland. "Besides, th-there's a r-really good story in here called 'The B-Barrens.' "

"Really? Why don't you read it to me?" It was a little a thing between them. Every so often, Richie would have Bill read his favorite short stories and horror articles out loud to help work out the stutter. It didn't always work, but it helped Bill's confidence, and sometimes that was enough. 

"Wh-what? N-n-n-n-now?"

"Yeah, mushmouth, get on with it!" Richie said in the voice of Wyatt the Homicidal Bag-Boy, a new one that he was just getting around to workshopping. Paired with the way Richie screwed his lips and cocked an eyebrow, it was enough to get Bill laughing. Richie always knew it was a good idea to wring a laugh out of him before o a reading. He called it 'loosening up the vocal cords.'

"Ok," Bill cleared his throat and flexed his hand a few times.  _ "A car cruises up st-state Route 206, alone under the flushed sk-sk-sk-sk-sk– shit." _

"You're okay, Billy. You've got it, keep going."

Bill looked at Richie, took a deep breath and continued,  _ "–the flushed sky. It p-parks beside the blackening pines, its doors swing open, and out st-st-step two teenagers. They're suited to the land: dark jeans, black sweatshirts, skin and hair the shade of sand and soil. But their hearts are like the sky, fresh and pink. Flaming." _

"Bravissimo! Bella, bella, bella!" Richie fell into Giac-me-off Casanova, an old-time favorite. "Your-a very talented, Signore! I could-a just-a kiss-a you!" Richie blew a kiss and mimed heartbreak when Bill rolled his eyes. "For real though," Richie said, returning to himself, "you did great. I swear next month it'll be one of your stories in that magazine and you'll be able to read it to me without one single stutter."

"Y-y-yeah. I'm s-sure."

Stan came back in the room before Richie could dote on Bill further. 

"Yeah, Patty, I miss you too, babe," Stan smiled as he took a seat next to Bill. Richie locked eyes with Bill and made a gagging noise. "Ssssh!" Stan scolded, "no, baby! I wasn't shushing you, Richie was just being an ass. I love you. Talk later, ok?" Stan finally hung up and put his phone in his pocket, a love-drunk smile sitting dopily on his face. 

"Hey Stanny, how much charge do you have?" Richie asked as he started to pick apart the paper sheet he was sitting on. 

"Eighty-percent. Why?"

"Eighty-percent?" Richie shot Bill a 'can you believe this guy' look that was quickly reciprocated. "How is it that you've texted Patty all day and just got off a presumably disgusting hour long call and yet you're the only one who has any charge?"

"Uh, probably because I actually make sure my phone is plugged in before I go to sleep. Also, I only use my phone as a phone. The reason your phone dies all the time, Richie, is because you're always busy with your Angry Birds and your Candy Crushes–"

"My what now? Bill, are you hearing this? You know that ought to be your next story, an old man steals a young man's body so that he can rant about games that haven't been popular since 2010."

"Beep-beep!" Stan said, but it was too late. Both Richie and Bill had fallen into cackling laughter and it was too damn infectious for Stan not to join in. 

Dr. Basey finally came in with Richie's blood-test results as Richie was wiping away tears of laughter. 

"Ah, Mr. Tozier. It's nice to see you again, although I wish it were under better circumstances. I see you brought your… uh, how should I say, male companions?"

Bill started laughing again but Stan's eyes bugged out of his face. "Oh God, no, we're not–"

"Oh I run a very modern practice," Dr. Basey insisted. "We get all kinds. And hey, who am I to judge? If three guys want to get together and I don't know, pal around, I don't see why they shouldn't."

"Yep," Richie grinned. "These are my boys! Isn't that right, Stanny?" Stan flipped him off as soon as he was sure Dr. Basey wasn't looking. "Alright, doc, enough fun. Let's get down to the nitty-gritty. What's going on in my body?"

Dr. Basey adjusted his glasses and looked at Richie's chart. "Well, your testosterone levels have dropped a bit, but they are still well within the normal cis male range."

"So then why did my uterus decide to cook me up a surprise and send the red baron into my underwear guns blazing?"

"It could be a number of reasons, although I'm sure the switch in your meds had something to do with it, but sometimes these things just happen."

"Just happen? What do you mean 'just happen'? I hadn't had my period in almost four years. That's not a 'just happen.' I'm not… the testosterone… things aren't going to start reversing are they? Like you've got to swear to me that I'm not going to start sprouting tits again."

"No, nothing like that. Severely low testosterone can cause breast tissue to swell even in cissexual men, but like I said your levels are fine. As for the return of your menstrual cycle, have you been under an increased amount of stress?" The doctor looked at him with cool eyes, but Richie wished they were blazing, if only so he could rage against them.

"No."

"Are you sure? I know you're a college student, that's got to come with a lot of stressors."

"I'm not stressed!" Richie fumed. "I'm just frustrated." He felt like screaming but his throat closed up and tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. He didn't want to cry. He really, really didn't. He'd cried more in that last week than he usually did in a year and he was not ready to start up the waterworks again. He was just so damn tired. Stan got up from his seat and rubbed Richie's back. 

Bill spoke up. "How do w-we prevent this from happening again? Like should he change his diet or exercise more or something?"

"Well, our first move is to switch him back to his regular medication. I can write a note to Richie's insurance telling them that it is medically necessary that he revert to what he used to take, that should help with expenses."

"And that'll do it?" Richie asked, clinging to the edge of hope. 

"Well, maybe that's all that needs to happen and from there on out you'll be back to how you've been for the past few years."

"But?"

"Well, like I said, there's always the off chance that this is something completely unrelated. It's very possible that you will continue to get a menstrual period for the next few months."

Richie let out a bitter laugh just in time to curb the tears. "I can't keep getting it, ok?" he said in wavering voice. "I just can't. I've been doing so fucking well for so fucking long that I started to forget what dysphoria even felt like. Now you're telling me that every fucking month for God knows how long, I'm going to have to be reminded that I have a fucking pussy?"

"Richie," Bill said as carefully as he could, "it's going to be ok."

"No, you don't get to say that! You don't know how fucking awful it is for me to go through this, ok?" And damn did those fucking tears start making their way down his face without his permission. "I can't do this. I can't  _ fucking  _ do this. Dr. Basey, there's got to be something I can do to prevent this, right? I mean like if I starve myself, it'll stop, right?"

"Jesus Christ Richie, you aren't going to starve yourself," Stan said with an resolute glare. Richie looked at his friend, ready to go against him, but he couldn't. He felt like he couldn't do anything at all.

Dr. Basey cleared his throat. "While I'm fairly confident that you will go back to normal once we return your medication to they way it was, the only way to surely stop your menstrual cycle from ever coming again is to surgically remove the organs responsible."

"So bottom surgery?" Stan asked.

"Well yes, at least internally. Even without the problem of your cycle, I'd be recommending a hysterectomy and bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy around now to reduce your risk of cancer. Now whether you wish to proceed with either a phalloplasty or metoidioplasty is up to you, Mr. Tozier."

 

* * *

 

The drive back to Orono felt a hell of a lot longer than the drive to Portland had. The car was silent save for the radio, which was stuck on some crap top 40s station. Richie focused on driving. The road was long and cut straight through an endless expanse of brown and green . The drive through Penscobot County was much of the same. Trees. Fields. Pylons. Trailer parks. Not too much else. The sky wasn't flushed and the trees weren't blackening – there was no poetry in it. The interstate was blocked up so instead they were taking a long country road slingshotting from Portland through Derry and on to Orono. With Richie's nerves as heightened as they were, the drive made him uncomfortable. Itchy. It was the land he'd grown up with and so it was land he'd learned to hate. As they crossed through the Derry city limits Richie grit his teeth and tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

"Hey Bill, you got any room to wiggle over there? My leg is going to sleep," Stan said, finally breaking the silence. He and Bill were squished together once more in the passenger's seat. The back of the van had been gutted when Richie'd bought the damn thing. He kept his spare DJ equipment there, some old pizza boxes, crates of records – it was all very Richie. In other words, it wasn't very practical, but that was okay. 

"I'm as far over as I can be. My f-f-face has b-been pressed against the f-fucking window for the p-past twenty miles."

"Well you've got to give me an inch to move because the damn buckle is digging into my hip," Stan said, shoving Bill a bit. 

"You know you guys didn't have to come," Richie snapped. "I didn't exactly invite you."

"I'm glad we came," Stan said. "It's always good to have emotional support, Richie."

"B-Besides, it's g-g-good n-news, right? I m-m-mean you've mentioned w-wanting bottom surgery before."

"It's really not that simple, Bill." Richie wasn't quite sure how to feel, and that in and of itself was enough to kick him in the throat. "But you know what? I'm gonna take the bright side here. Richie Tozier's having a house-cleaning sale! Everything must go! Ovaries are twenty bucks a pop, the uterus is fifty and the vagina is going for fifty-five dollars! That's right, cheaper than a fleshlight! Low, low prices here, folks! Can't beat 'em!" Richie said as Big Burt the Car Lot Freak. Bill and Stan looked at eachother, unsure whether or not they were supposed to be laughing. Richie groaned. "Oh come on boys!"

"You're okay?" Stan asked carefully.

Richie stared out the dashboard as Country Road 89 merged into the main thoroughfare through Derry. He licked his teeth. "Yeah," he finally said. "I'm okay. I'm going to have to start getting serious about saving, though. I'll probably have to pick up a real job, or maybe I'll start DJing at parties, I could pick up at least a couple hundred bucks every weekend that way. But you know what? I'm kind of excited. I've wanted this for a long time." Richie smiled and turned the radio up as a familiar beat started thrumming through the stereo. 

"Bum bum bum-bum-bum ba!" Richie sang.

"No," pleaded Stan, reaching for the dial to switch that station. Richie swatted his hand away.

"Bum bum bum-bum-bum ba!" Bill joined in.

_ "I hear the drums echoing tonight!" _ Richie shrieked, cranking down his window and revving the engine a bit just for fun. Stan rolled his eyes but relented and joined in. Stan was the only one of the whole lot of them that had any sort of voice at all and if singing along was the last puzzle piece towards appeasing Richie, well he'd do it. 

The chorus burst through the car just in time for flashing red and blue lights to catch in the rearview mirror. The sound of a siren did a well enough job at cutting off Toto. 

"Shit!" Richie said. "What did I do?"

"I don't know," Stan said, shooting a look back to the Derry Police car riding them. "It's probably the fact that Bill and I are trussed together over here. Pull over."

Richie took a breath and pulled onto the shoulder. He cranked down the window and was met with his own reflection in the mirrored lenses of aviator sunglasses. Sunglasses that sat on the snub nose of one Henry Bowers. 

"Well hol-eeee shit," Henry said with a laugh. "If it isn't little lady smartass–"

"Henry," Richie put on his best pantomime of a grin. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"It's Officer Bowers now and I'll thank you to call me as such." Henry took off his sunglasses and there they were. Black and furious eyes. Evil. Richie hadn't seen Henry since he was jumped by him and his gang on the night of his high school graduation. Henry'd called it a going away present. 

"Sorry, do you know each other?" Stan interrupted.

"Know each other? Fuckface faggot and me grew up together. Isn't that right?" Henry spat. Bill and Stan shared a look of sheer shock, but Richie ran his mouth before they could intervene. 

"Gee Henry – sorry, Officer Bowers – it's really been swell catching up and that was just a fantastic alliteration you put together. I mean 'fuckface faggot,' wow,  _ super _ clever. I truly didn't think you had the brain cells to do it, but I've got things to do and I'm sure you've got all kinds of riveting business to attend to–"

"Out of the car!" Henry barked. 

"H-h-he d-d-didn't do anything," Bill protested.

"I'm sorry, did you s-s-s-say s-s-s-something? You know this isn't a real guy, right? That's right, don't let her fool you. This bitch–"

"Hey Henry, why don't you eat a steaming pile of shit, huh? What? You're so pathetic you had to take up your daddy's job because you dropped out of high school–"

"You know what? I think I said get out of the fucking car."

"Now, actually you just said 'out of the car' which is what we call a  _ sentence fragment–"  _ Henry opened the driver's door and pulled Richie to the ground by his arm before he could say anything more. Richie landed on his ribs and the air shot out of his chest. In less than half a second, Bill was out and scrambling to help Richie up. Henry blocked him. 

"Get back in the car!" Henry shouted. 

Bill locked eyes with Richie. _He'll never look at you the same, kid. Take one last look because from here on out he's only going to see as a rag doll flung to the ground like roadkill._ Richie ignored the sharp ache in his side and pulled himself up. He looked away from his friend,  "Get back in the car, Bill. We'll be back on the road in just a moment. Isn't that right, Officer Friendly?"

"So long as you cooperate, anything's possible," Henry sneered with all that Bowers' charm of his.

Bill hesitated before getting back into his shared seat with Stan. 

"Just you and me now, tranny." Henry said.

"Great. I'm thrilled," Richie said, brushing off his bruised dignity. "Really, I am. Now is there a reason you pulled me over or can I go?"

"Maine state law dictates that each passenger has their own separate seatbelt and by default their own separate seat."

"Well golly gee Henry, those are some awful big words you've learned to recite. How long did it take for you to get them right?"

"Put both your hands on your vehicle. Now!" Henry pushed Richie straight into the side of his van before he had a moment to comply. Richie's glasses scraped against the facade, peeling off a bit of paint from the T in 'Trashmouth.' "You know, I ought to arrest you for that."

"For  _ what?"  _ Richie spat, even as his jaw was pressed against his own damn van. 

"I'm sure I could come up with something, fag."

"You know you can call me a faggot as much as you want but at the end of the day, you're the one who calls a man named 'Butch' daddy."

"Do you want to make this worse for you? Because, guess what, you tranny piece of trash, I've got all the power."

"And what a benevolent God you're proving to be! Big man over here! Just write me a fucking ticket and we can both get back to never seeing each other again."

Henry laughed. "You know this is a fairly convincing get up you've made for yourself. Looks like you cut your tits off and everything." Henry wrapped his hands around Richie's chest and pressed his fingers into his pecs. "But I know the truth, dyke."

"Great, so I'm a dyke  _ and  _ a fag!" Richie tried to hide his growing nervousness.  _ You're going to be okay, kid. You are. This a public road, for Christ's sake. Henry's stupid, but he isn't  _ that  _ stupid. Derry may be a dumbfuck town, but he wouldn't take the chance of someone worth a shit passing by. Would he? No. No, he wouldn't. At least not with Stan and Bill.  _ Richie's heart nearly stopped as Henry dragged his hands down his body.

"What? Never heard of a pat down?" Henry's palms landed on Richie's ass and lingered. Just when Richie felt like he might combust, Henry pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and then his hands were off and he could breathe again.

Richie turned around and found Henry scrutinizing his I.D. 

_ "Richard Wentworth Tozier, _ huh. It says your sex is male, too. Huh. Now what kind of lefty queermo judge did you have to go to get this made up?" 

Richie opened his mouth to make a rebuttal but found that he had nothing to say. He told himself it was just a delayed reaction to getting the wind knocked out of him.  _ That's all it is. Never mind the fact that he just fucking groped you. How chuckalicious is that?  _ Henry's hands returned and he tucked Richie's wallet back into his pocket. 

"You know what, I'm feeling like an extra nice guy today," Henry said, shoving his elbow into the small of Richie's back. Richie bit down on his lip before he could cry out in pain. Henry'd always used to love getting a noise out of him. Richie wouldn't cry though. Not now. Not anymore. A fight with Henry Bowers could never be a fair one. No matter how many times he'd told himself as a child that he'd one day grow strong enough to shove him away, it didn't matter. Henry's holstered gun digging into his hip as he was pinned against his own van was enough for him to know that much. The beautiful day came down around Richie like a melting plastic sheet. Suffocating. Henry pushed his face further into his van. Blue skies had never seemed so angry. And then Henry was off of him and he could finally breathe. "You're free to go." Richie turned around, ready for Henry to burst out laughing and slap the cuffs on him. All he found was a crazy smile on his face. "See you around, Tozier." Henry turned around and sauntered back to his patrol car. Richie didn't move a muscle until the car was driving off in the distance.

Richie brushed the asphalt dust off his clothes and got back into his van as though nothing had happened at all.

"Alrighty kiddos," he said as he turned the engine on, "back to our regularly scheduled programming–"

"Are y-y-you okay?" Bill interrupted.

"Okay? Why wouldn't I be?" Richie laughed.

"Uh, b-b-because that g-guy s-s-slammed you on the g-ground–"

"I'm fine!"

"You're clearly not fine," Stan said. "As soon as we get back home we need to file a police misconduct report. My dad knows a good lawyer, I'm sure he'd be willing to help you out."

"I'm not lawyering up and I'm not making a report."

"Richie, that was harassment, discrimination, and unnecessary force. You can't let him get away with that. You need to report him."

"Need to? I don't  _ need  _ to do anything. Like I said I'm fine."

"He d-d-didn't even end up w-writing a t-t-ticket. D-did he pull us over j-j-just to b-b-bully you? W-w-what h-happened when he p-p-pulled you out of the v-v-van?"

"Nothing happened. Like he said, we grew up together. We didn't get along then and shockingly enough, we still don't get along."

"That was a hell of a lot more than not getting along," Stan pressed. "If you're worried about him coming after you, I'm sure we can make the report anonymously."

"It doesn't matter. Maybe it'd be different if we were in Orono, but I grew up in Derry and the whole damn town is that way. Nothing will change if we make a report to their fucking police."

"Then we report it to some other agency–"

"I said no! Ok? What, am I supposed to seek justice against everyone who's ever called me a tranny? Because last time I checked you were on that list, Stan."

Bill stared at Stan with wide eyes, "You c-c-called him that?"

"It was one time and it was an accident and I fucking apologized as soon as I said it!" 

"And I'm over it!" Richie laughed. "No skin off my back!" He turned the radio back on and pulled back on the road without saying another word.

 

* * *

 

 

It was four thirty when Richie finally got into town, dropped off Bill and Stan, and made it to The Strip. The Strip, as it were, was a short row of bars that stretched from the end of UMaine's campus downtown. If there was any sort of nightlife at all in Orono, it was there. The Blitz was the last stop on the The Strip, and the only gay bar in a hundred and fifty mile radius. Of course that's where Beverly would want to meet. Richie groused and pulled a couple of quarters out of his pocket for the meter and was about to get out of his van when a very angry looking Eddie Kaspbrak pounded on his window. His camera was swinging around his neck and he had the expression of a child forgotten at a soccer game. And yet impossibly, something about his presence, furious or not, drained the anger coiled within Richie.

"Hey, ass hat!" Eddie screeched. 

Richie laughed and hopped out of his van.

"Yes, sprite?"

"Don't call me 'sprite.' "

"What? You're little and feisty and adorable–"

"Cut the crap, Richie. First you inconvenience both me and Beverly by pushing back the photoshoot at the last fucking minute and then you don't even bother showing up at the right time."

"Ok Eds, first off, Bev was cool with it. Well relatively, at least. And more importantly, I think you're forgetting the you're the whole reason we're having to reshoot in the first place."

Eddie's whole face turned a shade of pink that Richie couldn't help but find adorable. "I'm sorry I made a fucking mistake, ok? And don't call me that! I've been texting you all day–" Eddie stopped abruptly, locking eyes with the bobblehead Richie'd mounted to his dashboard. Richie grinned. "Is that... is that a Spike bobblehead?"

"Sure is, Eds, my dear. I've got a Buffy one too but she's on my headboard so every time I bring home someone as cute as yourself, she nods along approvingly as I get my groove on."

"Oh my God, you ruined it!"

"Ok, ok, ok. I'm sorry for being late, alright? I couldn't help it but I know what it's like to be waiting for someone and not have them show, so I'm sorry."

Eddie was caught off guard. The stern expression on his face only tightened though, perhaps in apprehension or maybe in self-preservation. Whatever it was, Richie wanted to be the one to melt it. And– fuck.  _ Jesus, Tozier. You like him. Goddammit, you do! This was okay when he was just a cute cute cute little closet twink, but now– you can't very well use that as an excuse anymore now that creepy Carter's in the game. fuck! fuck! fuck! You like him. You like the adorable way his nose wrinkles when he's all scowly. Contain yourself, dammit. _

"It's okay," Eddie said. "I forgive you." 

"Goody!" Richie beamed, trying to cover the sudden wave of fluttery hearts and clammy hands. He cursed himself internally. "Now where is our dear Beverly?"

"Right here!" Beverly called, appearing like magic from The Blitz. "What? I'm like Beetlejuice. Call my name three times and I'm there," she winked and opened her purse to reveal the biggest bottle Tito's Richie'd ever seen. "I nabbed this from behind the bar."

"Holy hell, Bev, you will always be the queen of lifting. Praise be to you, lassie." Richie laughed as she handed him the bottle. He took a swig and let his muscles relax. And then, for one passing moment, he could swear he felt Henry right behind him. He took another swig and it took care of that well enough. "Now care to share how you managed to boost this from a bar that's most likely empty seeing as the sun hasn't even set?"

Beverly twisted off a smile. "Sorry, Rich. A gal's got to keep her secrets."

Richie laughed and tumbled into an English accent. "That's fair, my deah. Now have you evah told our lovely Spaghetti about how you stahted your love for fashion by nabbing clothes from unlocked cahs?"  
"God no! I wouldn't want to spoil his innocence," Bev laughed.

"Um, you guys do know that I'm like right here, right?" Eddie huffed. "And besides! You can stop treating me like a little kid because last time I checked, we were all in the same year, ok?"

"Ok, you're right," Bev conceded. "We're sorry."

Richie offered Eddie the bottle, but Eddie shrugged him off.

"My twenty-first birthday isn't until next month. I don't want to get stuck with an MIP."

Richie laughed. "Uh, Eds, I don't mean to shock you, but we're drinking a stolen bottle of vodka on a sidewalk right out in the open right now. So, if you want to take a swig, I think you'll be okay. You're not a little kid, remember?"

"Don't bully him!" Beverly said, "You know, there are nicer ways to flirt with someone, Richie." Richie hoped to God nobody noticed the blush that was surely staining his cheeks. Beverly smiled when she saw his face.  _ Oh shit. She knows. She's known the whole goddamn time and–  _ "Rich, you're looking a little red there."  _ Fuck! _

"Uh, alcohol flush?" Richie tried.

"You know that's an East Asian thing, right?" Eddie said with an honest-to-god  _ giggle _ that made Richie's knees feel like jelly. 

Richie cleared his throat and handed Eddie the bottle. "You gonna take a swig or not, Eds? 'Cause sooner or later we're going to need to toss that bottle in the back of my van because I have enough drama in my life without getting fined for public drinking."

Richie could vaguely hear Beverly scolding him for assuming that he'd be the one to make away with the bottle, but his attention was drowned out by the fact that not only had Eddie not bothered to correct the nickname, but also that he was now chugging the vodka. 

"Holy hell!" Bev exclaimed as soon as she noticed.

Eddie came up for air with a doe-eyed little look on his face. "What?"

"We're not actually trying to get drunk here, just a little buzzed. We've still got a shoot to do, remember?" Richie said, ruffling Eddie's hair. "Besides, I'm sure you're a lightweight."

"I'll have you know that just last weekend I had like three Amaretto Sours!" Eddie insisted. Richie burst out laughing

"I hate to break it you, Eddie," Bev said through her own teary laughter, "but Mike made yours with like half a cup of lemonade and barely a splash of Amaretto."

"What? Why would he do that?"

"Uh, probably because he knew how eager you would be to prove you can take a drink?" Richie said. "Just a wild guess going off of how quick you were to try and neck that bottle of vodka."

Eddie scowled at the both of them. "If you two are done being total assholes, could we please get on with the fucking shoot?"

Bev bunny-hopped off to stow away the Tito's and grab the clothes from her car. 

"Quick!" Richie called after her. "Before the cameraman gets whoozy!"

"You know you can stop being a jerk," Eddie snapped. 

"Aw, I'm sorry, Eds." Richie threw his arm around Eddie and for a moment everything felt right. It seemed that the world stopped spinning and unfurled before them. Eddie looked up at him and their eyes met. It wasn't the first time this had happened, of course, but there something, perhaps the bitch of a day behind him, that made Richie really stop and  _ look.  _ And he saw. Eddie's eyes were just about the same color as Henry's and yet there was something that made them worlds apart. A light beneath them. Something so beautiful, so pure, so damn captivating that lived in Eddie's eyes which surpassed all their bickering and jokes and run-around games. It was as though the universe were humming,  _ This is your person, Richie. Don't cha know? You and Eddie, here together, taking a break from the chucks and letting the veilings fall, just a little bit.  _ Although maybe it was just the vodka. 

"Alright, boys!" Beverly returned with her arms full of clothes. "We're losing light! So here's the new plan, now that we've nixed the park, we're taking the gritty angle. Less Norman Parkinson and more Helmut Newton. Got it?"

"Sure, Bev," Eddie said, but Richie could read him like a book. And right now that book was saying 'context clues don't fail me now because I have no idea who either of those people are.' 

"Look it up while we're in the van," Richie whispered with a wink as Beverly ushered him into the trashmobile. 

Not a second after Richie closed the back door behind them leaving Eddie scrambling to make a Google search, did Beverly cut to the chase. "Ok, so you're in love with Eddie."

"Who? What? Love? Me? Disgusting. Besides, I'm pretty sure you have to like, I don't know go on dates and kiss and fuck before you know it's love."

"But you're admitting that something's there!"

"It doesn't matter if something's there, because Eddie has Carter now!"

"Ugh, you are both so hopeless. You know that, right? Barely a week ago it was 'boo hoo, nothing will ever happen between me and Richie because he has Chris.' "

"Eds said that?"

"Oh you're calling him Eds even when he isn't around to annoy? You've got it bad, Tozier. And he had one date with Carter, ok? One date is doodly-squat. I mean who's exclusive before they even fuck, huh? I mean I've seen you date like five people at once. No harm, no foul."

"Exclusive?  _ Doodly-squat?  _ This isn't 1958, Beverly. And it doesn't matter how many flings I can jostle at once because Eddie seems to be the type of guy to take dating very seriously. As long as he talking to Carter he's going to be  _ only  _ talking to Carter."

"All I'm saying is that the last time we had this discussion, your excuse for not going after him was because he was in the closet. And guess what? A week of knowing you and poof he's on Grindr."

"What if he isn't into trans guys?" 

"So tell him you're trans and find out. You've never had trouble putting yourself out there before. I mean doesn't your Grindr profile say that you're FTM like right after your name?"

"It did before I deleted it."

"You deleted Grindr? Say it ain't so."

Richie whined. "I'm lonely, ok? I want something to stick, goddammit. That's why I was trying things old school with Chris and that's why it hurt so fucking bad when he didn't show. I met him in real life and asked for his phone number like a real gentleman, we went on one perfect date, I told him I was trans, and now he's thin fucking air. So yeah, it's a bit different telling someone you're trans when you're just looking for a hookup. I can handle rejection left-swipe style, but as you and your freaky voodoo mind have already figured out, I like Eddie. Ok? I really like him. I don't know why, but I just do."

Beverly gave him a sad smile. "Alright, Rich. But I still think you should tell him, even if it's just because you guys are getting to be friends. Say that he and Carter really are a perfect match, in fact, why don't you just assume that from here on out and focus on being a pal. Pals tell each other things like this, right?" Richie nodded. "Ok, enough emotions," Beverly said, grabbing a suit and the blazer Richie'd worn on his not-so date with Chris. "Strip."

"There's my girl!" Richie said as he shucked off his jeans and t shirt. 

"Holy shit," Beverly gasped. 

"What?" Richie laughed. "Did you already forget how stunning I am without clothes on?"

"No," Beverly brought her fingertips to his ribs. Richie winced and looked down to find that a bruise was purpling from where he'd fallen when Henry'd dragged him onto the ground. "What happened?"

"Oh you know me, I must've tripped," Richie said in a lilting tone. It didn't take and Beverly looked at him with a humorless stare.

"Richie, I want you to look me in the eye and say that again in your normal voice. And I want you to say it full well knowing what kind of childhood I had and how many times I told people I'd tripped when I'd really been thrown into walls. I don't know what's been going on with you lately, but I do know that you're a master at telling people you're okay when you aren't."

Richie met her eyes and steeled his jaw, "Beverly Marsh, I must have tripped."

"You promise me?"

"I promise."

"Ok then, get dressed. We'll probably only get one outfit in before the light's gone, so let's make it count."

 

* * *

 

As soon as Richie got home, he put his phone in its charger and got in the shower before his roommates could try to talk to him. He put that into his mental _ to deal with later _ folder. Richie stood still under the spray of water. The water pressure in their apartment was so high that it actually hurt to stand under, but Richie just let the water shoot against his back. He ran a hand across his midsection and kept his eyes set on the tile wall in front of him. The bruising was only getting worse and looking at it wouldn't help. But bruises fade. They had before and they would again. In the morning he'd apologize to Bill and Stan and everything would be good and right. He wouldn't have to worry about Henry ever again. Next time he'd just stick to the interstate. Richie let himself have this little fantasy, but he knew that sooner or later he'd have to visit his parents and now that he was back on Henry's radar, he was sure that just as soon as he passed through the Derry border, the new Officer Bowers would just somehow  _ know.  _ There'd been something awful in the way he'd said  _ 'See you around, Tozier'  _ that made Richie want to puke. He turned the water as hot as it could go and let his skin pinken under the harsh spray. Bad thoughts sure had a way of surpassing the good ones in Richie's mind. The photoshoot had gone well and it'd been great being around Eddie – and Bev, of course. But somehow now that Richie was all alone in his room, all the good things seemed so far away. He slammed the water off without having done much more than getting wet and dried himself off. 

He pulled on his new pair of sweatpants, now that the old ones were blood-stained, but that was just another lead thought for the bucket. Oh well. He pulled on a loose t-shirt, the type that swallowed him right up, not unlike the ones that he'd always worn when he'd felt dysphoric growing up. Richie snuck off to his room and locked the door behind him. He turned off the lights and got into bed just as his phone buzzed back to life. A barrage of text alerts came through all at once. Richie grabbed his phone from his bedside table and found that every single text was from Eddie.

 

**_9:14 a.m. - Bev just told me that you're rescheduling._ **

 

**_9:14 a.m. - That's really rude, I hope you know._ **

 

**_9:16 a.m. - Not that you'd care._ **

 

**_9:20 a.m. - But seriously! I had a late shift last night and I woke up early for this._ **

 

**_11:13 a.m. - I just saw a dog that looked like you._ **

 

**_11:13 a.m. - Or I guess maybe not looked like you so much as sounded like you._ **

 

**_11:13 a.m. - What I'm trying to say is that it was really loud and annoying._ **

 

**_11:14 a.m. - Like you._ **

 

**_11:16 a.m. - This is where you'd normally respond, Richie._ **

 

**_1:37 p.m. - You and Mike are friends, right?_ **

 

**_1:40 p.m. - I'm only asking because I'm trying to figure out what to get him for his birthday._ **

 

**_1:42 p.m. - By the way, when's your birthday?_ **

 

**_1:43 p.m. - Richie?_ **

 

**_1:43 p.m. - Richie_ **

 

**_1:43 p.m. - Richie_ **

 

**_1:44 p.m. - Ok, I'm going to assume that either you've died or your phone died._ **

 

**_1:44 p.m. - I hope it was you._ **

 

**_2:10 p.m. - That was a joke, just so you know._ **

 

**_2:16 p.m. - Sarcasm doesn't work over text messaging._ **

 

**_2:30 p.m. - Why do I get the feeling that you're going to be a total ass when you finally get all these messages?_ **

 

**_2:37 p.m. - I hope I'm not annoying you._ **

 

**_2:42 p.m - I'm not annoying, am I?_ **

 

**_3:33 p.m. - Ignore those last messages._ **

 

**_3:45 p.m. - Bev and I got here a little early._ **

 

**_4:10 p.m. MISSED CALL FROM EDDIE SWAGHETTI_ **

 

**_4:15 p.m. - Where are you?_ **

 

**_4:16 p.m. - I hope you remember that it was your idea to reschedule._ **

 

**_4:20 p.m. - aaaaaaaaaand Beverly just went into the bar._ **

 

**_4:20 p.m. - I'm stuck waiting on the sidewalk, I hope you know._ **

 

**_4:25 p.m. MISSED CALL FROM EDDIE SWAGHETTI_ **

 

**_4:26 p.m. MISSED CALL FROM EDDIE SWAGHETTI_ **

 

**_4:28 p.m. MISSED CALL FROM EDDIE SWAGHETTI_ **

 

And just like that, Richie's heart felt warm again. He typed out a joke and deleted it. He typed out an apology and deleted that too. Finally he decided on what to say and pressed send. 

 

**8:45 p.m. I don't think you're annoying, Eds.**

 


	5. nothing is forever, eds.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie constructs a game plan.

**I don’t think you’re annoying, Eds.**

Eddie was looking through the photos on his laptop when Richie’s text came in. He had made sure to immediately upload them onto his computer so the same mistake, or some other mistake, didn’t happen again. Eddie thought he might go completely crazy if he had to go out and do the same photoshoot _again._

And really, they looked amazing. Richie looked amazing. 

Eddie found himself staring at the other boys face. His crazy dark curls, the freckles spreading across his cheekbones, the pinkness of his lips, and how soft Eddie imagined they’d feel against his own - and then, Richie texted him, and his stomach was filled with butterflies. He detested the feeling, and how Carter didn’t make him feel that way either. 

Eddie read over the words a couple of times. It was _nothing_ Eddie told himself rationally. He just thought he was being annoying, and Richie was just assuring him that he wasn’t. There was nothing implied there. Hell, that didn’t even mean Richie liked him (platonically, of course. Eddie didn’t even allow himself to consider romantic feelings) as far as he was aware, the only things that he and Richie had in common was liking Buffy the Vampire Slayer and men. 

Well, those were definitely on Eddie’s potential partner checklist. 

Impulsively, he unlocked his phone and opened up his text chain with Carter. 

**_Hey! Random question, but have you watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer? :)_**

It was weird, and Eddie knew it was a weird thing to text out of nowhere, but now he _had_ to know. 

**_Can’t say I have! I was never really that interested in it. The effects looked kinda cheesy. :P_**

And that was that. _Sorry, Carter. I don’t think we can see each other anymore._ Eddie typed out, then quickly deleted. Not only was it completely stupid of him, but it read like a joke. There was no way Carter would take it seriously, and Eddie would look like a total ass if he tried to explain that he was serious. 

**_Oh no. I didn’t just insult your favourite show did I?_**

Carter sent, and Eddie laughed out loud. It was stupid. He was being stupid. He was just… Very attracted Richie and it was ruining what attraction he felt for Carter. Yes, that was it. 

He shut his laptop, removing Richie’s gorgeous face from the equation, as he answered Carter. He decided to tell him that, yes, it was his favourite show, but he wasn’t mad. There wasn’t anything to worry about. Carter was entitled to his opinion, even if it was _wrong._ But Eddie was willing to let it go, and pretend like he didn’t care.

* * *

The problem was - he did care. 

He was finding himself picking apart every little thing he didn’t like about Carter ever time they hung out, and it was starting to border on a resentment. 

“He does this thing where… Where he tries to tell a joke, but he’s already laughing a little before he gets to the punchline.” Eddie spoke from his spot on Mike’s floor, staring up at the ceiling and waving around his arms as he vented his frustrations. “And then he can barely say the punchline! Half of the time, I can’t even understand what he’s saying, and when I can, the joke isn’t even _that_ good so I’m always faking laughing along and I just…. Christ, it’s so annoying!” 

It was the third time that week where Eddie had come home from a date with Carter, let himself into Mike’s room, and went on his rant about the date. 

“You need to stop seeing him if he’s making you this mad, Eddie.” Which was the same advice Mike told him every time. He turned in his desk chair to look at Eddie in his spot on the floor. “Clearly, you don’t like him, so why do you keep going out with him?” 

Eddie grumbled some non-sense, and Mike rolled his eyes, turning back towards his laptop where he began to type away. “You can’t even explain why you’re with him, that’s reason alone to break it off.” 

But Eddie knew exactly why he was with Carter - he was a distraction from Richie. 

Even though they hadn’t talked since the photoshoot, Eddie had spent enough time staring at his face as he went through each of the individual photos and touched them up. He didn’t do many alterations to Richie himself, other than cleaning up some stray hairs or smoothing out some colouring. Everytime, he found himself enchanted with the photos, the charming smile on his face, the memories of the moments before each snap he took, and how Richie had actually made him want to laugh. 

“I have my reasons.” Eddie decided to say instead. Which appeared to surprise Mike, but he didn’t press for what those reasons could possibly be. 

“Well, you might want to consider if those reasons are worth making yourself miserable.” 

This, of course, was not the response that Eddie had expected. And he had to step back and look at the situation and wonder _why_ his feelings for Richie were so much scarier for his feelings for Carter… Of course, this answer came to him quickly and easily. His feelings for Richie were real, and it was the first time that he was feeling them, and it was scary. Being scared was something that Eddie had thought he’d grown used to, and maybe it would be something that was easy for him to overcome… But Richie felt insurmountable. His other problems were like steep grassy hills on a hot day - unpleasant, but not impossible. Richie was Mount Everest. 

“No.” Eddie sighed, rolling onto his stomach and pressing his face into the crook of his elbow. “I guess it’s not.”

* * *

And so, Eddie constructed his game-plan to confess his feelings for Richie Tozier. 

**Step One: Actually Talk To Richie**   
**Step Two: End Things With Carter**   
**Step Three: Tell Mom**  
 **Step Four: Ask Out Richie.**

Realistically, none of those things should’ve been very difficult to Eddie. In fact, all four of them boiled down to _have a conversation._ The problem was going to be that half of them weren’t very pleasant conversations. 

He had drafted his plan sitting at the bar where he and Beverly had met Richie for the photoshoot, and somehow while the thought had crossed his mind, he didn’t think that Richie would be the type to stop by a bar in the middle of the day. But was it ever really a bad time for chicken wings? 

“Eds?” He seemed surprised when he noticed him there, and immediately made a beeline for his table. Eddie hardly had the time to stick some blank papers over the sheet where he had drawn up the 4-step plan. Richie, if he noticed, didn’t make any outward indication of it. “You waiting for someone? Carson, or something?” 

“Carter.” Eddie immediately corrected, disappointment flooded through him. Richie hadn’t remembered his name, which meant that he didn’t care that Eddie was seeing someone else, which also meant that he wasn’t interested. It was a stretch of a conclusion, but it made sense to Eddie. “But no, I’m not waiting for him… You could uh, you could sit you wanted…” Eddie motioned to the chair opposite of him at the small table. Richie seemed to hesitate a moment, before he pulled out the chair for himself, taking his spot next to Eddie. 

“So, any reason why you’re sitting here all alone?” 

Eddie shrugged. “I was just working on some homework.” Which would explain the scattered papers in front of him. “And I really like the fries here.” 

"So what I'm hearing is that, like every pub, they have good fries?" Richie reached over into the nearly empty basket of fries and snatched one up, popping it into his mouth and chewing it with a purpose. "Ah... Crispy outside, perfectly soft inside... A nice, full bodied flavour." Richie grinned. "I'd give it a 6 out of 10."

Eddie scoffed. "Really? Only a 6?"

"Not salty enough. And I've definitely had better fries."

Eddie huffed. "Well, it's not like I asked for your opinion anyway." He turned up his nose, although there was a teetering look of amusement on his face. Richie seemed to pick up on this, reaching across the table to pinch his cheek. "God, you're so fucking adorable."

The compliment made Eddie blush, and he shook his head. "I'm not... I'm not _that_ adorable." He argued weakly.

"You absolutely are. Christ, look at you. All blushing and shit. Carter doesn't know how good he has it, does he?"

Those words Eddie would over analyze later - but for now, he took them as they were given. An offhanded remark that likely didn't mean as much as Eddie was hoping it did.

"He does, I think. Besides... I really don't think I'm as great as you're making me out to be." Eddie explained. Which was absolutely him just fishing for more compliments - but who could blame him? Getting compliments from Richie was absolutely making his heart melt, and Richie seemed to be more than content to give them.

"I think you're wrong. You're cute, you're funny, you're a good photographer and you like Buffy. What else could someone possibly look for in a partner?"

"I dunno. Maybe a great model?"

Richie snorted at that. "Damn, Kaspbrak. If I didn't know any better I would think you were flirting with me."

But Eddie couldn't think of a subtle way to say that he was indeed flirting. So, he let it slide with regret heavy in his stomach.

* * *

Step One had been easier than expected. Since their impromptu lunch together, Eddie had been texting Richie nearly constantly. And it was nice. It was fun, it was flirty, with an unspoken "this is as far as it can go" between them. But hopefully, that wouldn't last too long. Eddie had been planning his break-up with Carter, and then he'd be one step closer to asking Richie out.

Unfortunately, Step Two was harder than Eddie had expected. He had decided it wasn't just something he could text Carter about. He needed to do it in person... But every time that they hung out, Eddie couldn't build up the guts to do it.

It was his fourth attempt that week, sitting down with Carter in the coffee shop where they first met. At their table, Eddie bounced his leg while Carter talked about class. He fiddled with his stirring stick while Carter talked about his hockey game. He tapped his fingers on the table while Carter asked him what was wrong. Wait- 

“Eddie?” Carter finally broke through his distracted spell. “Are you okay?” 

_No._ Eddie wanted to say. _No, I’m not okay. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to date someone, let alone how to break up with them… God, what did I get myself into? Why can’t I just do this?_

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Eddie knew he didn’t sound convincing, so he wasn’t at all surprised when Carter folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. 

“Eddie.” He was firmer on the matter this time. “C’mon, babe… Tell me what’s on your mind.” 

“Babe?” Eddie echoed, a nervous edge to his voice. God, he was just making this so much harder. Maybe he should just scrap the plan? Just forget it, stay with Carter, forget Richie, never break up with Carter, get engaged to Carter, get married to Carter - 

Eddie suddenly felt as though he couldn’t breathe. He forced out a cough. “Sorry.” He wheezed out between fits of coughs. He didn’t have his inhaler on him, which wasn’t making this easier. 

“Hey, hey, hey… Eddie, look at me.” Carter reached forward to take his hand. Eddie let his eyes land on him. “Breathe with me.” He suggested, and took deep audible breaths. Eddie focused on him (blurring the concerned customers staring at them in the corner of his vision) as he tried to follow his breathing - it was shaky, and broken up by more coughing on his first few attempts, but soon enough, his breath had evened out again and Eddie was settled down. 

“Sorry.” Eddie said again. 

“It’s okay.” Carter assured. “But now I’m really unconvinced… Something’s gotta be bothering you, right?” 

Right he was - although Eddie didn’t want to admit it. Especially after that stunt? Who was he to go and break it off? Carter had helped him, he cared about him, he called him babe… 

Eddie, for the fourth time, couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

“I’m just… I’m thinking about coming out to my mom and it’s got me totally freaked out.” Eddie explained. “She… She hasn’t been the most accepting woman. To anyone, really.” He explained, trying not to pay attention to his hand still in Carters. 

“Oh - yeah that’s… That’s a big step, Eddie. If she’s not accepting… Are you sure you’re ready for that?” He asked. “My dad didn’t take it too well, you know.” He lowered his voice a little bit. “I haven’t talked to him since.” Carter explained. “It’s really not an easy decision to make, I know but… If you’re going to make it, make sure you’re ready for that, yeah?”

Eddie closed his mouth, giving a little nod. “Whether or not I’m ready for that conversation… It’s something I have to do.” Eddie decided, speaking firmly on the matter. “She’s my mother, whether I like it or not, and whether she likes it or not, I’m gay. And I need to tell her that if I’m ever going to be completely comfortable in who I am.” 

“For someone who’s so nervous you sure do incite inspiration.” Carter mused, a small smile on his lips. Carefully, he brought Eddie’s hand up to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss onto his knuckles… And Eddie felt nothing.

* * *

But he did feel Carter’s hand slipping under his shirt later that afternoon. He and Carter had kissed before, but never quite like this. They were in Carter’s apartment, on his couch, with Eddie lying beneath him. Lips locked together in wet kisses that Eddie, despite having no real interest in Carter, found himself enjoying _a lot_ and hips nervously rolling together in ways that Eddie hadn’t ever experienced, but god, he wanted to do all the time now. 

Carter’s hand moved under his shirt, and didn’t do much there. He held Eddie’s hip like he had been before, only now it was skin-on-skin and all the more intimate. Eddie thrusted his hips up against his and heard Carter gasp into his mouth. Eddie tugged on his hair, which earned him a moan. 

Carter’s lips moved from his, and instead of the sounds of heavy kissing, panting filled the room. His lips moving to attach onto Eddie’s neck instead, sucking down hard, and Eddie moaned - _loud._

“Fuck! Carter-” He grinded up against him again, and Carter stilled for a moment. 

“Wan’ me t’stop?” He asked in a whisper against Eddie’s neck, and although the touch was so much lighter than the sucking from before, it still made Eddie whimper. 

“No no no no, please - _ah_ \- keep going.” 

Carter didn’t need to be told twice - latching back onto Eddie’s neck and rolling his hips roughly against his. Eddie going pilant beneath him. One hand still stuck in Carter’s hair and the other roaming up and down his back. Praises tumbling from Eddie’s lips before he could even think twice about them and before he knew it - an orgasm washed over him. White hot and sudden, Eddie shouted out, rolling out the waves of it. 

Then, when the high of it passed, the embarrassment hit him like a wave. “Oh my god I am so fucking sorry, god, I’m so stupid - I’m sorry. I’ve never… I’m sorry.” 

Carter stilled against him, easing off of sucking hickies onto Eddie’s neck to placing light kisses, to eventually straightening up to look at him properly. He was laughing a little, and Eddie hoped it wasn’t _at_ him. “It’s okay.” Carter assured him, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. “If anything, I take it as a compliment.” He grinned, pressing another soft kiss to Eddie’s lips. “I can lend you a pair of underwear if that’s not too weird? It’s… Probably better than….” 

Eddie hesitated - the idea of wearing someone else's underwear was nowhere near appealing, but neither was sitting with cum in his. It was a tough decision but… Eddie nodded. “Yeah… Yeah, I’ll take you up on that.” 

Carter moved off of Eddie. “My rooms just over there. Top drawer on the right side of the dresser. Help yourself to whatever you think would be more comfortable. Oh and-” He got up, heading into the kitchen where he got a plastic bag, offering to Eddie. “This might… Help as well.” His cheeks were flushed, and a nervous grin on his face. “Sorry.” He added. 

Eddie laughed at that. “You have nothing to be sorry about.” 

“Well, I’d like to think it was my fault.” 

Eddie snorted a little laugh. "Yeah... Yeah, I guess it _was_ your fault... Fuck you, Carter." His words held no anger in them, and Carter laughed along with him. Eddie accepted the bag, and headed off to Carter's room.

And immediately, he found himself starting to regret the decision to take Carter's clothes, because once he had opened the drawer and found himself rifling through his date's underwear it felt distinctly wrong. It felt dirty. Eddie's stomach twisted uncomfortably, and god, he didn't want to be sick, but did he ever feel like he was going to throw up? This was the worst situation he had ever been in. He shifted his feet uncomfortably - his underwear starting to dry and that was decidedly worst than it being wet. There was really no winning here, was there?

He picked out a pair of black cotton boxer briefs. Those were better, he decided. He set them on top of the dresser and started to undo his belt.

Eddie couldn't look at himself while he did this - god, it was awful. Tears unwillingly burned in his eyes, making him feel all the worst about it. He tried to focus on something else, anything else instead, like Carters room - it was a nice room. He had a nice place. The walls were a muted grey colour, his sheets a washed out blue and his bed neatly made. Posters from indie films that Eddie didn't recognize hung in frames along the walls - and pictures of who he assumed must've been friends or family sat on his bed side table. Eddie pushed off his soiled underwear and pulled on the pair of Carters. The itching dirty feeling came back and Eddie came close to just going commando instead.

"You're being ridiculous." Eddie spoke quietly to himself, seeking comfort within his own words. "His underwear is clean. You're clean. There is nothing dirty about this, Eddie." He pulled his own pants back on, trying for forget about the state of his underwear. "You're fucking embarrassing." He spoke to his briefs, folding them up neatly and dropping them into the plastic bag. That did nothing to stop him from remembering the mess he had made of himself.

He tied up the bag tightly, and with disgust for himself heavy on his shoulders, Eddie headed back into the living room. Carter seemed to have composed himself well, as if nothing had happened, scrolling through Netflix on TV as casual as ever. Eddie dropped the bag on the floor by the couch before joining Carter on the couch. 

His mood must've been obvious, but Carter didn't comment directly, merely lifting his arm and arching an eyebrow towards Eddie. He took to the offer without a second thought, snuggling up beside Carter and resting his head on his shoulder. His guilt grew - he knew the way he was treating Carter wasn't right... But he liked kissing him. He liked hanging out with him. He just... Didn't want to actually _date_ him. And they weren't dating, right? There was nothing technically wrong, was there? 

But then Carter kissed his forehead, and squeezed his shoulder. "You don't gotta be embarrassed, Eddie. It happens... It's okay." He spoke in a low whisper. Eddie didn't answer. "Wanna watch Buffy?" Carter offer. Eddie nodded.

* * *

Eddie's plan to not end things with Carter just yet, and instead, skipping over to step three was absolutely not the best way to deal with this... But as he and Ben pulled up to his mother's place in Derry, Eddie didn't think there was any going back. He could break off things with Carter after this. He'd do it - he'd have to do it. 

"Thanks for driving me." Eddie could've very well driven himself, but his mom, who still had no idea he had his license, would've lost her mind. And then he wouldn't have an excuse to not visit her. 

"No problem." Ben understood well enough why Eddie needed to be driven out there, and didn't ask too many question when Eddie asked for the ride. Eddie always made sure to pay for the gas, and buy whoever drove him dinner to make sure they had proper incentive to take him. 

Eddie looked up to the house, and frowned. He knew his mother must've been just behind the curtain waiting for him to get out of the car, but he couldn't bring himself to step out just yet. Instead, he looked down to his phone and his conversation with Richie earlier that day. 

**_[10:23am] I'm coming out to my mom today._**

**_[10:27am] well damn eds u sure about that?? thats a rlly big step u sure ur ready?_**

**_[10:29am] I'm never going to be ready but... I have to do it eventually. Might as well just get it over and out of the way, right? At least then I won't have anything to worry about anymore._**  
 ** _[10:31am] Besides, she's my mom. How bad can it really be?_**

Eddie almost laughed as he reread that - he knew full well about how badly this could go, and while he didn't want that to happen, he couldn't help but think that was for sure the direction this was going to go. Sonia had never been one to make things easy for Eddie, and he was positive that this wasn't going to change now.

**_[10:36am] i dont wanna rain on ur parade eds but sometimes that doesnt mean a lot and the stuff youve said about bein rlly afraid doesnt rlly bode well you know? so while i wish u all the best, just dont expect it to be perfect? sometimes it takes him for ur parents to come around and accept you. so, if it goes badly, dont chalk it up as the end of the world. things can change. ok? sorry that makes no sense lol but just tell me how it goes ok? im here for u man_ **

The text still warmed Eddie's heart. 

**_[10:40am] I will. I'll talk to you later._**

Richie hadn't answered after that, but that was okay. Eddie didn't need to hear anything else off of that, he decided. He'd just text Richie later when this was all over and revel in the comfort that his friend would provide. He liked how at ease he felt talking with Richie.

"We can always go home." Ben offered, out of the blue. Eddie had almost forgotten that he was sitting there waiting for Eddie to make up his mind. Eddie frowned, biting his lip, and he shook his head a little.

"Thank you... But no, I need to do this Ben." 

"Alright." He nodded. "When do you want me back here?" 

"An hour." Eddie decided. "I can't imagine... This taking me much longer than an hour to get through." He pursed his lips, and shook his head to himself, letting out a small sigh. "I'll text you if there's any changes to that plan, okay?" 

"Okay." Ben nodded, patting Eddie on the shoulder. "You got this, Eddie. You'll be just fine." 

Eddie smiled, but he wasn't sure if he entirely believed Ben about that. He pushed open the door, and stepped out of the car. Ben waited in the car as Eddie went up to the door, knocked - only to have it immediately flung open. 

"Eddie-bear!" Sonia Kaspbrak cooed, large arms wrapping around her son and pulling him into a crushing hug. Eddie heard the car pulling out of the driveway behind him. Awkwardly, he hugged his mother back. 

"Hi momma." Eddie answered, a little bit winded. It was a few moments later when Sonia finally decided to let go of him, and Eddie felt like he could breathe again. She stepped into the house, all but pulling him along with her.

It was all too familiar. The house wasn’t neat, it never was. It was _clean_ Eddie was sure - every surface scrubbed down and polish and disinfected, but that didn’t mean the house wasn’t piled with unnecessary trinkets. Magazines stacked up in large stacks in the corners of the room. The house smelled of rotting paper and Lysol - Eddie fought against his gag reflex. 

“Do you want something to eat, Eddie?” 

“No, I’m okay.” Eddie knew he wouldn’t be able to eat anything. He went over to sit on the couch, the spot he used to occupy frequently while he watched soap operas with his mother. Only now he felt much more stiff and awkward. Sonia, however, didn’t appear to notice her sons discomfort - that, or she ignored it as she returned to her indented spot on the couch and turned the volume up on the TV. 

“How is school going? You know, you really don’t call your mother enough, Eddie. You should be back here more. You’re just going to go and forget me, like I knew you would. You could always move back home, you know.” 

It was nothing that Eddie hadn’t expected - Sonia always gave him the same spiel when he came home. “I’m not going to forget about you, momma.” Eddie told her, like he did every time. “I’ve just been busy. School’s a lot of work. You want me to get good grades, don’t you?” It was a sick game the family played - who could guilt the other worst. Eddie believed himself to be well-practiced in their game, and a frequent winner, and suspected this wouldn’t be any different. Sonia hummed, and fell silent for only a couple moments. 

“Did you hear about Greta Keene?” She asked. Eddie shook his head. “She’s pregnant now. Apparently that Victor Criss boy is the father… But they’re not even married. And they’re not going to get married! They’re just going to have and raise a baby together.” Sonia tsked her tongue. “It’s wrong, Eddie. You better not be out there messing around with girls, Eddie. They’re dirty, girls like Greta Keene… You don’t know what sort of diseases they’re carrying. You don’t want to get sick, do you, Eddie?” 

“You don’t need to worry about that, momma. I’m not messing around with-” 

“I know you’re living with Beverly Marsh, Eddie. She’s one of the dirtiest girls around. You know Maria Jackson was telling me that she heard-” 

“Mom, stop it. She’s my _friend_ okay? I don’t need to hear whatever rumours you have to say about Bev. I’m not sleeping with her. Okay?” 

That wasn’t what she wanted to hear, apparently, because Sonia muted the TV again and turned towards Eddie with a fire in her eyes. “Eddie you will not speak to me like that. I am just trying to protect you. Girls can be seducing, Eddie. I don’t want you to make a mistake. Maybe you should come and live with me again - get yourself away from little sluts-” 

“MOM!” 

This was going to be worst than Eddie thought it was. Before all of this, before he made this choice, normally he’d close his eyes and nod along to his mother's words - knowing they were wrong, but he’d agree as not to get into a fight with her. But, no… No, he wouldn’t move back in. He couldn’t keep up the lies and the mask he had to wear. “Momma, please stop it. Okay? I’m not moving back in! No matter what you say, I’m going to stay living with my friends.” He insisted firmly. “Whether you like it or not, Beverly is my friend and I’m not going to move out just because of some lies you heard about her.” 

“Eddie.” Sonia’s voice began to warble. He saw her lip shaking and tears burning in her eyes. Eddie knew they weren’t real, Eddie knew it was a tactic to make him crumble, but he wouldn’t break - he couldn’t break. A tear rolled down her cheek, and Eddie shattered. 

“Momma, I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.” Yes he did. “I’m not mad at you.” Yes he was. “It’s just easier for me to be near school, that’s all. It’s what’s best for me. You don’t want me having to take the bus every day, do you?” Eddie asked her, and Sonia shook her head rapidly. “See? I’m better off there. I’m sorry I don’t talk to you enough, momma. I miss you too. But I’m happy where I am. I’m having fun, and I’m learning a lot. I’m doing really good, momma. So can I please stay out there?” 

There was a pause where Eddie thought she might say no, and he’d have no other choice but to move in with her, but to Eddie’s relief, Sonia nodded. “I suppose so… But you have to come out and see me more, okay, Eddie?” 

“Yes, momma.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss onto her cheek, before settling comfortably back into his spot, his eyes towards the TV. Sonia turned the sound back up. 

This wasn’t going to get any easier - and Eddie supposed he knew that well. It was never going to be easy, and there was no way he was going to get around it. Eddie just needed to bite the bullet, and get it over with. It shouldn’t be that difficult, right? 

“Momma?” It took ten minutes of him building up his courage to actually say it - and when he did, he felt every fiber of his being screaming at him to run away, to forget about all of this and wait. Wait wait wait. Wait to break up with Carter. Wait to tell his mother. Wait to ask Richie out. 

Eddie was tired of waiting. 

“Hmm?” Sonia answered. She didn’t really look towards him - certainly, she wasn’t anticipating the bomb that Eddie was about to drop onto her. 

“I… There’s something I need to tell you.” That got her attention. Sonia turned off the TV entirely and looked towards her son. 

There was a million ways that Eddie could say this. The pressure was high, his palms were sweaty, and he was beyond nervous… Then, he remembered Richie. He remembered what he said. If it’s bad now, that’s not the end of the world, things could get better later. There was always more time. It was going to be okay. 

He took a deep breath. “Momma, I’m gay.” 

Sonia looked as though she was about ready to hit him, her face turning bright red as she stared at Eddie. Then, her face softened. “Eddie-bear… You’re not gay.” Sonia said simply, as if it was a fact that she could state. Something that she could just change about him. 

“Yes, momma… I am gay. I’m gay and… And I’ve always been gay. Okay?” Eddie told her, but that only seemed to make it worst. 

“No, Eddie. It’s that school. It’s being away from your mother it’s all those… Liberal art students. They made you gay. You weren’t like this before, and we can make you better, Eddie. We’ll call the church and we’ll meet with the pastor and we’ll get you back home and out of school until you’re all better. You can’t go to school sick like this, Eddie. You’re sick.” 

“Momma, I am not sick!” 

Eddie stood up, and Sonia immediately burst into tears. “How did you get sick like this? How did you get sick?” She pleaded. “It wasn’t me! I did everything right! I did everything!” 

And the guilt swelled up in him again, and Eddie wanted to hug her and tell her it was okay, that he was sorry again. At least… That was what Eddie had always done. But then, Richie was back in his mind. Richie telling him it was okay, that sometimes it takes time, that she’d come around and everything would be just fine and that he needed to stand his ground. So he did. “You did a lot of things wrong… But this isn’t one of them, mom. This is me. This is who I am, and who I always have been. I’m gay. And you can’t change that.” 

She didn’t stop him aside from a shout of “Eddiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee” as he left the front door. 

He pulled out his phone, and at first, he went to call Ben. But with his thumb hovering over the button… Eddie changed his mind. No, instead, he opened up Richie’s contact and as he walked away from his old house, he called him instead. 

“Hellooooo - Richie Tozier speaking. And what can I do for you my cutie patootie Eddie Spaghetti?”

Eddie would’ve normally scoffed at the nickname - but instead, he found himself laughing. The sound of Richie’s voice already doing so much to brighten up his mood that as he walked away from his childhood home and his surely still crying mother. 

“I just came out to my mom.” 

“And?” 

“And it went absolutely horribly.” Eddie told him, almost laughing. “God, it was awful… Immediately, she wanted to pull me out of school and call the pastor and convert me straight so I just… I left. I left and I’m walking away now.” 

“Walking? Where’s your car?” 

“Ben had to drive me. She doesn’t know I can drive and I didn’t want her to find out because then she’d try to make me come out here more although… I guess that’s not much of a problem now, is it?” 

Richie snorted. “Yeah, I guess so… So what’re you gonna do now, Eds? You’re okay, right? I know it’s not easy like… Getting rejected like that. If you need to seriously talk about it I’m here to listen or I’m sure Carter would too.” 

Carter. Right. Eddie had briefly forgotten about him… Perhaps he should’ve called him first? But it was too late now. “I think I’m okay for now.” He decided. “I mean it’s… It’s a lot, I guess. And it probably hasn’t hit me yet but like you said, this isn’t the end of the world yet. She could still come around, and I did… I did what I needed to do for me. I’m proud of myself.” 

“I’m proud of you too.” Richie assured him. 

“Hey, Richie.” Might as well get step four of the way, right? 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you wanna go out sometime?” 

There was silence on the other end - and Eddie heavily considered hanging up for whole duration of Richie pausing. But then, he spoke, and Eddie felt like his heart was soaring. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” 

“Great.” Eddie smiled brightly. “I have to call Ben to get home but… I’ll text you later and we can make plans for dinner?” He suggested. 

“Yeah sure. That sounds good… Get home safe, okay, Eds?” 

“I will. And stop calling me Eds.” 

Richie laughed. “Talk to you later, Eddie Spaghetti!” And before Eddie had the chance to argue him, Richie had hung up the call. And yet, Eddie felt as good as ever. He laughed openly, texting Ben and telling him to come and meet him at the end of his street. Ben didn’t ask if he was okay, merely saying that he would be right over. 

Step four was complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took forever!! it took me a while to figure out what i wanted to do with this chapter, but overall - i'm happy with how it turned out and i hope you all enjoy it too! <3


	6. Marquee Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eddie does a crime, loses his virginity, and marries Richie.

_ "Ok, son. Now you're going to want to hold the knot with your left hand and let the right hand do all the work." _

_ Richie stood in front of the mirror. His very first tie was draped over the neck of his shirt. His dad stood behind him and showed him the movements. Richie'd worn collared shirts a hundred times before, of course he had. But this, this was a  _ boy  _ shirt – and it was somehow different. Almost miraculously so – as though once he'd put it on, it had the power to transform him. It wasn't very comfortable though. The collar on it  was stiffer than on any other shirt he'd worn before. His mom had reluctantly starched it for him. This was an important occasion. For the very first time, Richie Tozier was going to his parent's very Catholic church dressed as a boy. No, they weren't planning on telling anyone  _ why  _ he wasn't wearing a Sunday dress with shiny white leather Mary Janes, but it was a major step all the same.  _

_ Went flipped the tongue of the tie through the loop and pulled it through. It was a nice knot – by far nicer than the dozen times Richie'd tried before throwing the strip of cloth down in frustration and calling for his dad to help.  _

_ "I look like a total square," Richie said, examining his reflection.  _

_ Went laughed. "Well, welcome to manhood." _

_ Richie pretended that that sentence didn't warm every blood vessel in his body.  _

_ "I don't know, dad. I don't think I'm gonna be much of a tie guy." _

_ "Son, no man is a tie guy. These things are strangulation devices we wear to make our wives happy. It's a lasso that they use to keep us wrangled in. It's a good skill to know, though. Pretty soon you're going to want to go on dates and ties always impress the ladies." _

_ That was a strange topic, in fact, this was the first time Went was bringing it up with his son. Richie, for a moment, was almost scared that he was going to get The Talk – although he had no idea what that would look like for him, and surely it was only more confusing for his dad. _

_ "Do, uh, do you have your eye on any girls?" Went asked after a moment of hesitation. "I know it probably isn't easy for you… but I'm sure there's all sorts of accepting little ladies at your school. Maybe hit up the art department. Or the girls who are really good at English. When I was in high school, all the lesbians were really into poetry. Not that I'm saying you're a lesbian, of course! Just that the girls who will be, uh, attracted to you–" _

_ "Stop," Richie said, blunt enough. His dad looked a little frightened, scared that he'd said something wrong. A lot of their conversations were like this – with Went stuck on a chicken wire tightrope, unsure of the words to say. "Don't make that face, pops," Richie laughed, effectively letting his dad off the hook. "And I don't have a crush on any girl right now." _

_ "Oh," Went sounded a bit disappointed. "Well, the time will come, I'm sure." _

_ "There is a boy I like though." _

_ And man oh man, did that make Went's face turn red. _

_ "You mean… you're… oh Christ, you're –" _

_ "Gay?" _

_ "Hell, I don't know. Can you even be gay?" That same look of momentary egg-shell crushing terror returned to Went's face. "It's just… I don't mean…" _

_ Richie just laughed again. He put his hands on the tie and experimented a bit with loosening the knot.  _ Yep, definitely not a tie guy. World, give me all your Hawaiian shirts and pucca bracelets, I wanna be a big fat party animal! I wanna go to rock shows and do drugs and have sex with everyone! But Lord Almighty, if I've gotta take communion in a monkey suit today, well it's better than doing it in a dress.

_ "Dontcha worry, dad. I'm not gay. I like girls. I like them a lot." _

_ "But you like boys too?" _

_ "Now you're getting it, old man!" _

_ "Alright little punk, settle down or your mom will think we're having to much fun." _

_ Richie frowned. "Yep. Sound like her." _

_ "Hey now, she'll come around." _

_ Richie looked at his dad and hoped more than anything in the world that he was telling the truth. _

_ "And hey, either way, you look great." Went smiled. And then his lips fell flat.  _ Oh crapola,  _ Richie thought,  _ he's thinking. That's never good.  _ "And, uh, er, if you're ever with a guy… who has a, you know, a..." Ah, so they were going to do The Talk after all. Fuck.  _

_ "A penis?" _

_ "Right," Went blushed. "If you're ever with a guy who has uh,  _ that, _ and you decide to be, uh.... Intimate and, er, have..." _

_ "Sex?" _

_ "Yes, sex. You've got to make sure that he wears uh, you know, a, uh..." _

_ "A condom?" _

_ "Yeah. Damn, I thought the good coming from all of this meant that you'd never have to worry about getting pregnant." _

_ "I'm not. That… it wouldn't be good for me." _

_ "Alright. So condoms!" _

_ "Ugh, dad. I know how to use them," Richie said, although at thirteen, he most decidedly did not. _

_ Went rubbed his temples. "I sure hope you don't." _

_ "Yeah," Richie admitted. "But please don't make me have this conversation right now." _

_ Went laughed. "Fair enough! For now, all you need to know about is the tie. And hell, who knows, maybe one day you'll go on a date with another boy and it'll really impress him." _   
  


* * *

Richie fiddled with his tie. It was a Thai silk tie from Thailand. Richie'd only really bought it because the tongue-twister like description on the tag had made him laugh. Well, he hadn't exactly so much as  _ bought  _ it as shoved it down his pants while Bev distracted the clerk during their shared petty theft phase. It was a magenta and purple flowery eyesore that looked like it would be more at home in Studio 54 than around a businessman's neck. If there was any tie Richie could tolerate, it was definitely this one. And sure he still wasn't a tie guy, but maybe his dad had been right about one day wanting to impress someone.

He'd gotten to the restaurant fifteen minutes early, which was proving to be a bad decision because his anxiety was eating him up. This wasn't like with Chris – it was so much more. If things didn't go well tonight, Richie wouldn't just be missing out on an opportunity for love, but he'd be losing someone who'd so quickly become a friend. 

Richie adjusted the salt shaker; Richie adjusted the pepper shaker. Richie adjusted the salt shaker and then Richie adjusted the pepper shaker. Richie rotated his glass. Richie moved his empty plate. Richie drummed his fingers. Richie unwrapped his silverware and put the cloth napkin on his lap. Richie took the cloth napkin out of his lap and folded it on the table. Richie unfolded the cloth napkin and put it back on his lap– and then all his worries melted away at once. He stopped fidgeting because Eddie, in all his grace and beauty, was walking through the door right on time.

He was wearing snug-fit deep blue jeans that, in all likelihood had probably been tailored by Beverly. He made a mental note to thank her later. His shirt was a shade of yellow that left Richie raking his mind through what he remembered from his art appreciation class in high school. Was it goldenrod? Lemon? Cadmium? Marigold? Yes, that was it,  _ marigold.  _ Richie had never noticed before, and surely it was because of the shirt, but Eddie had flecks of marigold in his eyes too. 

Eddie sat down and smiled. It was a beautiful smile. The kind that could light Richie up inside. An almost ethereal blanket fell over them and in that moment it seemed as though they were no more than two souls sitting together and convening. 

"Richie, you look–" And then Eddie snapped it all by knocking over both glasses of water onto Richie's lap. "Shit."

Richie grabbed his napkin to try and clean himself up, but the water had already been absorbed by his pants leaving a nice wet patch right at crotch level. Eddie blushed harder than Richie ever could.

"Christ, Richie. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Richie laughed.

"No, God. That's the worst way I could have started this date. Oh fuck, here, let's go to the bathroom and switch pants."

"What? Eddie that's insane. It's okay. Really, it is."

Eddie covered his face with his hands and for one terrifying moment, Richie was sure he was going to cry. Instead, he started laughing. "It's really bad, Richie. It looks like you pissed yourself."

"Yeah? It does, doesn't it?" Richie laughed too. 

"God, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, you don't need to apologize. Ok? It's all ok. As you've probably previously surmised, I have no shame. If it looks like I peed my pants I don't care because I'm sitting with the cutest boy in all of Maine. Icy crotch or not, I'm the luckiest guy around tonight. And hey, I think that was just an icebreaker. Literally." Richie took Eddie's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Eddie laughed and nodded. 

The waitress came by and wiped down the table and refilled their water glasses and took their drink orders. When she left, the sudden nervousness returned. 

"So," Richie started before he realized he had no idea what he was going to say next. He was at a loss for words. He realized he had no idea how to proceed. Truth be told, he didn't have all that much experience in dating, not really. Hook-ups, sure, but real, face-to-face  _ dating –  _ that was all new territory. Sure he'd been on a date with Chris, but God knew how terrible that'd ended up. And what more were first dates than interviews?  _ Tell me about yourself  _ and all that crap. Richie already knew who Eddie was, and he knew he  _ liked  _ who Eddie was. So then what the hell were they supposed to talk about? "You're incredibly hot and I'm just really glad I get to say that now without passing it off as a joke."  _ Nailed it.  _

Eddie blushed. "You're not too bad yourself."

"Oh come on, Eddie Spaghetti! That's the best you can do?"

Eddie rolled his eyes up to the sky. "Just because I asked you out does not mean you get to call me that."

"Doesn't it, though?"

"Nope."

Richie laughed. "You are just so adorable. Do you realize that?"

"You might have mentioned it, yes."

"Wowza! There you go! Confidence looks really hot on you, let me just say. Welcome to your gay new life, Kaspbrak."

"Yeah." Eddie frowned, just for a moment. 

"But seriously, are you okay? I, uh, I know how difficult it can be to come out," Richie said, vague enough. 

"What was it like for you? I mean you just seem so confident in who you are. How old were you when you came out?" 

Richie swallowed. It was a simple question, it really was, and yet, Eddie had no idea that Richie had two different answers. He needed to tell Eddie he was trans, simple as that. And yet, and yet, and– he didn't want to. That's really what it came down to. He knew that every minute that went by without telling Eddie, the problem was only getting worse, but that did nothing to make it seem any easier. Sure there was all sorts of fear, but he just really, really,  _ really _ didn't want to. So he didn't. "I was twelve or thirteen, I'm not really sure."

"Wow, I don't think I even really knew I was gay until junior year of high school. I mean I guess I  _ knew,  _ but I wasn't ready to admit it, even to myself. How did your parents react when you came out?"

"Well I came out to my dad first because we'd always gotten along really well. Sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself, so I don't even think he was all that surprised when I told him I'm," _ a boy,  _ "bisexual. He was a little confused and caught off guard, but I don't think he was  _ surprised." _

"What about your mom?"

_ Well Eddie, it's funny that you should ask that because she really thought I was a lesbian. Isn't that chuckalicious? How's that possible, you ask? Well you see–  _ "It took her awhile. She, uh, she wasn't happy when I told her. It was a hard time for me. A really hard time, actually. It was sort of like being a ghost in my own home. She said it was like losing,"  _ a daughter, a fucking  _ daughter,  _ how funny is that?  _ "a son. I was bullied in school a lot, too. Even before I came out, I was just this really awkward, glasses-wearing geek. I was a real smartass too, if you can picture that," he laughed. 

"Yeah, I think I can," Eddie laughed too. "I was bullied too. I was called a girly-boy so much that I think some people actually forgot my name."

_ Girly-boy, girly-boy, boyey-girl.  _ "Once I was thrown into a concrete so hard that it broke my eye socket." Richie didn't know why he said that. He shouldn't have, he really shouldn't have, and as soon as he did, he felt the air around them change. Eddie stopped laughing at once and Richie was quite sure they wouldn't be getting that ease of conversation back anytime soon. "I, uh, I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry, I ruined the conversation–"

Eddie carefully held Richie's hands across the table. "Don't apologize." He looked at him with those beautiful, full brown  _ (and marigold!)  _ eyes and suddenly everything felt better again. "When I asked you out, it wasn't just because I find you attractive. I want to know you. Really know you, I mean."

_ He wants to know you. So tell him who you are. Tell him–  _ "So you're saying that you think I'm attractive?" Richie said with a shit-eating grin. 

"You're impossible, I hope you know that," Eddie laughed. "But for real, I had no idea you went through that. I mean I was shoved around sometimes, but it was really just name-calling for the most part."

"Well, to living our best lives." The waitress came by just in time for Richie to make a little toast. "And I know it sounds hokey, but at the end of the day, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." 

"You know Friedrich Nietzsche is the one who originally said that. Which is kind of ironic because he had a mental breakdown a decade before he died and never recovered."

"Well, my little intellectual, for me it's true." Richie tapped the skin under his right eye. "Titanium implant. I'm part cyborg. If someone were to try and hit me in the face today, it'd hurt them more than me." Richie thought briefly about Henry and how he'd made him fall to the ground. As a kid, the notion that one day he'd be big and strong enough to fend all of that kind of hate off had gotten him through some very dark times. Now, just like so many other childhood fancies, it just seemed stupid. Richie smiled it off. "You just got to keep on the bright side, Eds."

"Yeah, I guess." Eddie took a long drink from his cup and stared at the menu for a second too long. "Did your mom ever come around?" 

"Yeah," Richie smiled as he thought about little Maggie Tozier and her claimed spitfire attitude when it came to defending him. "We're really close now. You know I never thought I'd say that, but it's true. My dad really got me through before that, though. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Your dad, I mean. You haven't said anything about him before. I'm assuming he and your mom aren't still together?"

"Oh, uh yeah. He actually died when I was little."

"Shit."

"He got sick not long after I was born and he passed when I was three. I think that's why my mom is the way she is. Once she told me that it was better for me to think I was sick than for me to actually be sick. How fucked up is that?"

"Pretty fucked up," Richie agreed. "I'm really sorry about your dad."

Eddie shrugged. "I've been without him for as long as I can remember. My mom's my only real family. But, uh, I guess that's over now. When you texted me this morning you said it wouldn't be the end of the world if things didn't go the way I wished they would've. They, uh, they didn't, obviously. And I know you're right. I've got friends I love and a place to live and I'm not financially or emotionally reliant on my mom. What happened isn't going to change my day-to-day life. But it still hurts, Richie. It hurts  _ a lot." _

Richie frowned. He looked at the menu for just a minute and then put it down. "You know what? Screw dinner. There are better things to do on a Saturday night. Eddie Kaspbrak, you are beautiful, you are kind, and your mom doesn't deserve a kid half as amazing as you. So let's blow this popsicle stand. You deserve a real night out."

Richie stood up and reached out to help Eddie out of his seat. 

Eddie just laughed.

"What?"

"It still looks like you pissed your pants."

Richie grinned. 

 

* * *

 

 

Richie dug around the pile of clothes in the back of his van. He pulled out a pair of fishnet stockings and handed them to Eddie. 

“You should wear these.”

“No fucking way,” Eddie laughed. He stretched the tights out and inspected them as though they were some strange, foreign thing. To him, they probably were. “Why do you even have these?”

Richie shrugged. “Don't really remember why. I stole most of this stuff from Bev a while back.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Of course you did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You and Bev run around like dumbass kids who steal candy bars from gas stations.”

Richie blushed. “Well, when you put it like that it sounds bad.”

“It is bad. Call me old school, but I don’t actually think that stealing is a good thing.”

“Yeah, but we never stole from mom and pop places. Just corporate shmooze-fests.”

“But that’s almost worse. The minimum-wage workers are the ones who take the brunt when a place is shoplifted.”

“I guess we just didn’t really think of it like that. We stopped, though.”

Eddie laughed. “Last week Bev literally stole a whole bottle of vodka. And I’m pretty sure The Blitz is independent. There aren’t exactly a ton of national bar chains out there.”

“Fair, fair," Richie laughed. He pulled out a gold-sequined top hat and stuck it on Eddie's head. "I’m going to go out on a limb here and say you’ve probably never stolen anything in your life.”

“Well, I’m not an asshole, so yeah.” Eddie took off the hat and tossed it to the other side of the van.

“My days of shoplifting are behind me, Spaghetti Man. Bev was always better at it than me anyway. She never got caught.”

“Did you?”

Richie laughed. “Once. Well sort of. Before I met Bev, I was fifteen or so and I was stealing something that I was too embarrassed to buy. I saw the clerk looking at me, so when he turned away, I put it back. He called the police as I was leaving and when they found nothing on me, I threatened to sue.”

“And that worked?”

“Sure did.”

“What were you trying to steal, condoms?”

“Something like that.” Richie looked back to the pile of clothes and pulled out a pair of rainbow-striped hotpants. “How do you feel about showing off your thighs?”

Eddie blushed. “Are you going to actually tell me where we’re going yet?”

“And spoil the fun?”

“Can you at least give me a hint?”

“Well, it’s fun, raunchy, and gay.”

“So a club?”

“Something like that. You know, I think we should get eyeliner. Have you ever worn eyeliner?”

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

Eddie thought for a moment. “My mom would probably have a heart attack if she saw me wearing makeup.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“Definitely.”

Richie smiled. “Alright, let’s go to the CVS on Main Street.” He climbed up to the driver’s seat and laughed as Eddie made the effort to get out and walk around. Richie was surprised to see him wearing the hat again.

"Is Bev going to be pissed when she finds out I'm wearing her stuff?"

"No way. Bev's still a juvenile delinquent."

"You both are."

Richie shrugged. "Well, we both had pretty rough childhoods. I guess we're just making up for lost time. Once last year we did a joint scam where we dressed up in all these clothes we were going to use for dropping, and got emergency food stamps. Man, you should’ve seen the faces of everyone in the grocery store when we bought lobster and parsley with SNAP.”

Richie was waiting for Eddie to scold him. Instead, Eddie just stared at him with a confused look on his face. “What’s dropping?”

“Oh, you’re going to love this. Shopdropping is basically shoplifting's more legal, perverted cousin. Basically, instead of taking things from a shop, you just leave something instead. Last year, over spring break, Bevvie and I went down to New York together. She really wanted to lift from a high fashion store. We went into Dior or one of those types of places, and it was crazy guarded. Like we thought theft-protection at the KMart in Ludlow was tough, but in this place, you actually had to like ring a doorbell and be buzzed in. Crazy, right?

“Anyway, we bailed on the idea pretty much immediately, because those places are pretty much bound to prosecute if that catch you. But Bev still wanted to do something there, you know, just to get some kicks. So we went down to the Salvation Army and bought just the grossest, most stained clothes we could find. Then, we went back to the high-end place. And you know it was really Bev’s game, so I got to be the distraction. I think I faked a seizure or something equally awful. And I figured Bev would just take the clothes and sneak them on hangers, but that girl is never simple. When no one was looking, Bev stripped the fucking mannequins and redressed them. The customers who noticed just assumed she worked there. As soon as it was done, we booked it. God, I think we both ran faster than we’d ever had before. Man, you should’ve seen it. You don’t know a good time until you’ve seen a high-end mannequin wearing a ripped Ed Hardy t-shirt.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“No, it’s art. It’s a filthy world we live in. I think you’ve got to be bad, you know? We’re the blank generation, baby.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “That song came out in the 70’s. That means we’re not just the post-blank generation, but we’re the  _ post _ -post-blank generation.”

“Holy shit, you know the song? I thought I could slip that by as me being original.”

“Of course I know that song. Why did you assume I don’t know my rock music?”

“You’re just so…”

“Innocent.”

Richie held his hands up in surrender. “You said it, not me.”

“Well, I’m really sick of people thinking that about me. I’ll have you know I’m a big fan of Richard Hell.”

“No way.”

“Yes way!”

“Well, that’s one thing we have in common. You know, I think Richard Hell is the only true punk rocker to ever exist. Fun fact, I named myself after him. My mom always thought it was after Richie Rich, and I didn’t want to ruin it for her, but it was always Richard Hell. Way cooler.”

“What do you mean?”

“Huh?”

“You said you named yourself.”

_ Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck–  _ “Oh, uh yeah,” Richie coughed.  _ Tell him. Tell him now, or soon you won’t be able to. Tell–  _ “I was named after my dad, Wentworth, but how stupid of a name is that? No offense to my pops, of course, but I, uh, I just wanted something different?”

Eddie laughed. “I’m going to start having to call you Wentworth from now on, I hope you know.”

Richie frowned. “I, uh, I– could you not? I know you're just joking, but could you please just call me by my name? My chosen name, I mean. It’s just... it’s a sensitive topic, I guess.”

“You gonna start calling me by my name?" Eddie cocked an eyebrow. 

"Oh, Eds–"

"Eddie."

"Do you really not like it when I call you that?"

Eddie was quiet for a minute. Instead of answering the question, he just said this, "I won't call you Wentworth. Besides, I think you did a good job naming yourself. I think there's something powerful in that. It's like you made your identity for yourself, you know? You know I spent the first eighteen years of my life just being the person my mom told me to be. I'm just now starting to figure out who  _ I  _ want to be. But you're just you, and that's something I really admire. I’m starting to get your vibe, Richard Hell 2.0.”

Richie grinned. “The Voidoids were always my favorite.”

“I know. You play them almost every time you’re on the air.”

“So you’re admitting you listen to Trashmouth Radio?”

“Maybe,” Eddie smiled. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not annoying.”

“Sure, but name one successful radio host who isn’t at least a  _ little  _ annoying. It’s the bread and butter of the ‘biz.”

“I’d hardly call a college radio station a ‘biz.’ "

“Yowch! Eddie Spaghetti gets off a good one.”

“Hey, I just realized I don’t actually know your major.”

“Well, my dear, you’ve never asked.”

“Alright, alright. Richie, what is your major?”

“Guess.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Oh, but it is!”

“Ok, how many guesses do I get?”

“Three.”

“Alright. I’m going to go with the obvious.”

“Which is?”

“Theatre.”

“Nope! Two more.”

“Uh, music?”

“Colder.”

“Fuck.”

“Okay, pottymouth. You’ve got one more guess,” Richie smiled. “Make it a good one.”

“Shit, let me think.”

Richie took his eyes off the road for a just a moment to catch a glimpse of Eddie’s thinking face. He grinned wider.

“Think all you want, you’re not going to get it.”

“Communications.”

“And that’s three strikes! Eddie Spaghetti is out, folks!”

“Ok, ok, ok. What is it then?”

“Mathematics and computer science.”

“Har, har. But seriously. It’s theatre, isn’t it?”

“I was serious. I’m a double STEM major.”

“Holy shit.”

“Why is that surprising?”

“You just seem very… I don't know how you seem, honestly."

"Well I'm a really complex guy," Richie laughed.

"I'm starting to get that."

Richie pulled into a parking space in front of the drug store and made a grand show out of digging change out of pocket and putting it into the meter.

"You know, they actually take it very seriously around here," Richie explained. 

"I'm sure," Eddie laughed.

Richie shot a look to the cash registers as they walked in. Sure enough, whatever Great Other there was in the universe had made it so it just happened to be the same cashier who'd been working on the night Richie'd bought his maxi-pads. He led Eddie in a beeline to the makeup aisle. It wasn't like the feminine hygiene aisle. Impossibly, there was something liberating about it. Maybe it was the simple knowledge that Eddie wouldn't be questioning his masculinity like the cashier had. And perhaps that gave him the confidence he needed to get the self-checkout right on the first try.

 

* * *

 

"Hey, Richie?" Eddie asked as Richie leaned over from the front seat to do Eddie's eyeliner. Richie stopped.

"What is it?"

Eddie reached into his pocket and pulled out a little plastic jar of rainbow-flake cosmetic glitter. “I did a bad thing.”

Richie laughed. “What the hell are you talking about? Where’d you get–“ Richie’s eyes widened as he made the realization. “Holy shit, did you steal that?”

“Maybe.”

Richie only laughed harder. “You stole  _ glitter?” _

Eddie blushed. “It’s your fault!”

“My fault?”

“You made me do it!”

“How?”

“Peer pressure and a general curiosity as to the feeling one gets when one commits a crime.”

“Peer pressure?”

“You made it sound cool! Ok? God.  _ Fuck.  _ I should go back and pay, shouldn’t I? Oh my God, what if someone saw me? What if a  _ camera  _ saw? That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Eddie, calm down. You aren’t exactly going to go down for stealing a jar of glitter. What could it cost? One buck? Two?”

“It was eight dollars.”

Richie scrunched up his face. “For  _ that?” _

“I know! Glitter is overpriced!”

Richie just started laughing again. “Oh, Eddie, my love, you’re just about the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Keep the glitter, but don’t do it again. You were right when you were still insisting that stealing was dumb. It’s been almost a year since I’ve taken anything without paying for it. I don’t know if I can hang around with bad influences such as yourself.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Oh no! It’s too late for him, God. Devil swoop him up! He’s stealing makeup and making moves!”

“Shut up and put the glitter on me.” Eddie handed Richie the jar.

“Uh, how?”

“What do you mean ‘how’?”

“How do you want me to put the glitter on?”

“I don’t know.”

“And you think I do?”

“Well you know how to put on eyeliner, why shouldn’t you know how to put on glitter too?”

“I only know how to put on eyeliner because Bev makes do it for her when she pre-games too hard before she does her makeup.”

Eddie snorted. 

“Oh, and Eddie?”

“Huh?”

“I do think you’re pretty.”

“I know, I just wanted to hear you say it.”

“Anytime.”

 

* * *

They made it to Waterville with fifteen minutes until midnight. Richie pulled up to a little movie theatre in a dilapidated strip of shops. All old small towns seemed to have movie theatres just like it, smack dab in the middle of a little downtown. Richie always loved places like that. Something about them felt a little more raw. Authentic in a way that the big guys just couldn't imitate. They weren't like the AMCs or Regals with fifteen-plus theatres playing any and all shitshow on general release. Richie Tozier liked his shitshows highly curated, thank you very much.

In Derry, it'd been the Aladdin. There was something about that little two showroom theatre that'd always made Richie feel safe. As a little kid, his dad told him how it'd once been the only movie theatre in a fifty-mile radius and how he'd taken Richie's mother there on their first date. The whole idea of the movies that his dad had shared with him left Richie amazed. So whenever things got too much as kid, he'd go off a sneak in to the Aladdin to see a movie he had no business seeing. There was refuge in front of the silver screen. When the real world failed him, Hollywood always picked him back up. 

The Aladdin went out of business when Richie was about seventeen. He'd found out about the theatre in Waterville not long after, and just like that, he’d found a new safe haven. The Waterville Theatre wasn't near as pure as the Aladdin had been. The theatre had survived being run out of business by corporate big box theatres by becoming a niche space for everything from old B-horror movies to verifiable masterpieces in somber tones and lined with subtitles. The title ranged from Mr. Sardonicus to La Dolce Vita. Teenage Richie had eaten it all up, but what'd really thrust him into his own was the bimonthly showings of Rocky Horror. It was always a place where he could dress how he pleased with no fear of violence. As much of a  _ boyey-girl  _ people in school saw him as, the queens in boas and heels embraced him. It'd been Richie's first taste of a true queer community and that was a feeling he wanted to share with Eddie.

Richie smiled as he watched Eddie stare at the marquee, his eyes alit with excitement. Richie'd done a pretty good job with the eyeliner, and well, it was enough to make Richie need to bite down on his tongue to curb his arousal. Eddie had that strange, unabashed beauty of someone who had no idea what they truly looked like. Richie wondered, not for the first time, what Eddie saw when he looked in the mirror. With all his little baits for compliments, it seemed that Eddie had no idea that he was just as attractive as Richie kept promising. Eddie was back in the sequined hat and Richie figured that paired with the makeup, it was as feminine as Eddie'd ever let himself experiment with.

Richie, himself, had wound up in the fishnets and hotpants. Paired with the white shirt and tie, it definitely wasn’t high fashion, but Richie got the idea that Bev would be proud anyway. Gender-bending wasn't something he was always so confident in, even at the Waterville Theatre, but there was an oddly liberating feat of staying closeted with Eddie. There was also the fact that the shorts, far more suited for Bev's smaller body, gave him one hell of a bulge with his extra perky date-night packer doing a damn fine job. All in all, it left him more than willing to rock the second act Dr. Scott look.

"Rocky Horror?" Eddie finally asked, tearing his eyes away from the marquee. "Isn't that the show where you throw things at the screen?"

"Yep," Richie grinned. "Here we are, Eddie Spaghetti. You wanna have fun? This is where you get to be bad. I wasn't joking earlier when I said that this world is filthy. My eye socket is half titanium, your dad is dead, and a clown has his hands on the nuclear code. The world doesn't care about us, not really. The world doesn't care about  _ anyone. _ Right now, you're no more than a glitter-stealing-gay and I'm a foodstamp-fraud-bisexual. College is stupid, a diploma is just a piece of paper, and the job market isn't hiring. But you know what? That's all ok. Nothing in this world matters, and I choose to take comfort in that fact. Being bad is easy, being young is easy, being with you is easy. That's all that matters right now. Everything else is just passing strange."

Eddie almost looked impressed. "So did you just have that little speech prepared, or?"

Richie took a second to come out of his mind. "Ok, you catty thing, let's see a movie." Richie offered his arm and after a second, Eddie took it. "Now, I've got to warn you that this show is a lot more than props."

"People call things out too, right?"

"Right-o. There's also something called a shadowcast where they have people dress up as the characters in the movie and act it out in front of the screen. They have a little lark called the 'virgin games' that can get a bit raunchy. Now I know you can sometimes be a little overeager trying to prove how adult you are, and don't get me wrong it's adorable–"

"Overeager?" Eddie scoffed. "What have I ever done that's overeager?"

"Uh, stealing glitter? There's also that time you tried to chug vodka last week."

"Pssh, I wouldn't call that overeager."

Richie grinned. "Ok, we'll just say it's enthusiastic and leave it at that. Back to my point. If you get pulled onstage for the virgin games and you don't want to participate, all you have to do is say so. No one's going to judge for not doing something you aren't comfortable with. Ok?"

"Alright."

Richie led Eddie to the ticket booth and let the ticketer draw a lipstick 'V' on his forehead in great stride. In the theatre, Richie headed for seats in the back, only for Eddie to drag him to the front row. Richie couldn't help but think about his parents on their first date. His dad had told him that they'd seen Home Alone – Richie doubted that they'd be having half as wholesome night. 

The emcee for the evening came out in full Frank-N-Furter regalia. Richie knew them, although to be fair, he knew most of the cast. The games started and to Richie’s surprise, Eddie wasn’t called on stage for the One-Liner contest, the Let's Have an Orgasm, or the good ol' Cornholing, But With Dildos marathon. Richie looked at Eddie, and could've sworn his date was almost disappointed. 

"Alright, we have one more game! If you've been here before, you know what it is. Let's keep it a surprise for everyone else though, alright?  For this one, we're going to take volunteers, so all my sluts in the audience have a chance to participate."

"He volunteers!" Eddie yelled, grabbing Richie's arm and throwing it high in the air.

"Well we never say no to Richie," the emcee said. "This boy's been coming to this show for years. You gonna come play, Rich?"

Richie grinned and got out of his seat. "I'll do it," he agreed, "but only if Eddie's my partner.”

“You two ever fuck before?” the emcee asked into the microphone. The crowd laughed and Richie watched as Eddie’s face turned bright red. 

“Uh, this is our first date,” Eddie said in a meek kitten of a voice. 

"I'm going to take that as a no," the emcee laughed. "Alright, Richie and co., get your pretty asses up here."

Richie led Eddie onto stage. A handful more of volunteers followed them until there were five partner sets on stage. Richie looked at Eddie, expecting to see him trembling slightly. He wasn't.

"This is my favorite game. The rules are simple, when I tell you to go, you turn to your partner on the right and kiss the hell out of them. Which ever couple has the most salacious time get to join the cast on stage for a very special surprise. As always, winners are decided by applause."

_ He's not going to want to do this, _ Richie thought suddenly.  _ Oh fuck. He's adorable and kind and innocent and there's no way in hell that he's going to want to kiss in front of all these people. Good going Richie, you made him feel like he had to – and now he's going to feel like he has to be an exhibitionist-lite. He's only one day fully out of the closet. This was too much for him and he's going to hate you and after this, you won't even be friends and– _

"We're going to fucking win," Eddie whispered.

Before Richie could respond, the emcee yelled for them to start.  _ Just kiss him on the cheek. Just a sweet little kiss and he'll think it's romantic and everything will be– _ Eddie grabbed him by the lapels. And then Richie's mind was sure quieted. Eddie was on him, really  _ on _ him. His mouth was hot and heavy and all over Richie's. Eddie's hands knotted in Richie's hair and it took only a millisecond of catching up for Richie's hands to find their way to Eddie's ass. Eddie’s kiss was all aggression and passion. Was Eddie really as overeager as Richie’d thought, or was it just competitiveness? Either way, Eddie was in control and Richie was loving it. 

And then they were on the ground and Eddie was straddling him. It suddenly became very apparent that Eddie was aroused, and God help him, Richie was too. In any other situation,  Richie would start working Eddie’s shirt off right about now. Now suddenly there was meaning to the world. Meaning in the almost amateurish way Eddie’s teeth grazed Richie; meaning in the way that Eddie’s nervousness had fled; meaning in the way Eddie grabbed him by the tie and moved his hips against Richie's lap; meaning in the way Eddie suddenly seemed more at home than Richie had ever seen him; meaning in the stupid hateful world and it was–

“Ok! I think we have a clear winner!” 

Eddie pulled himself off of Richie and adjusted himself in his pants in an as subtle manner as possible, given the situation. For a fleeting second, Eddie's eyes flitted down to Richie's crotch. Richie's heart stopped. Richie hadn't thought of Eddie being a fuck-on-the-first-date kind of guy, but now, he wasn't so sure. Sure he always had a strap-on sanitized and ready to go in his glove compartment, but of course that meant that there needed to be a conversation first. A conversation it was quickly becoming too late to have.

“Uh, how do you feel?” Richie coughed, he looked around to the other partners around them, all laughing and clapping. The audience was clapping too. Of course they were, winning by applause was all a part of it and they’d sure as hell beaten the rest of the competition out of the water. 

Eddie licked his lips in an almost nervous manner, as though his inner freak was ready to go back into hibernation and leave him filled with regret. But then he smiled. 

“I feel fucking amazing,” Eddie declared. He turned to the emcee. “What’s our prize?”

“You get to be part of our little show,” the emcee pulled two Ring Pops out of their pocket. “Since you're a freaky little virgin, I'll explain it to you. The picture we're all about to see starts with a wedding, so we need two people to be our Betty and Ralph."

“I’m Betty,” Eddie said quickly.

“Well ok, then!” 

The emcee put a paper towel veil on Eddie's head and Richie carefully slipped the candy ring on Eddie's finger.

"Hell of a first date, huh?" Richie whispered as Eddie returned the favor and gave Richie his own ring. 

Eddie kissed him once more for good measure. 

 

* * *

 

When they got back to Eddie's place, Richie looked at Eddie for a long time without saying anything. He thought about the candy ring in his pocket. After they'd finished their part on stage, Richie'd carefully wrapped his back in the wrapper. It was stupid, all of it. But also it wasn’t. He thought about how Eddie’s hands felt so incredibly soft in his, and the absolutely insane way Eddie’d kissed him. He thought about the brief moment where the world all seemed to mean something.

And then he thought about Henry Bowers. He hadn't told any of his friends about his eye socket before, not even Bev. And it hadn't mattered, not really, because that chapter of his life was supposed to be closed. Despite his intentions, he'd never ended up talking to Bill and Stan after snapping at them. They were all doing a dance around the subject, with Richie in the center, always pretending he was just peachy-keen. His ribs were still sore, though. But there was a hurt deeper than that, stuck in his core. Thoughts like these had an evil way of intruding Richie's mind when he wanted them the least. Suddenly, with no permission at all, a pain fell over Richie's heart. His mind felt leaden and everything felt dark. Eddie put a hand on his shoulder.

“I really like you, Eddie,” he finally said.

“I like you, too.” Eddie grinned. "Do you, uh, do you want to come in? I might have given Bev and Ben and Mike a heads up."

Richie locked eyes with Eddie.

“I don’t think we should go out again.”

Eddie laughed. When Richie didn't join him, he stopped. “Wait, you aren’t serious, are you?”

“I think that you and Carter might be really suited for each other and–"

“You’re kidding me, right? Richie, I thought we were having fun. I thought– fuck. I don’t know what I thought.”

Richie just shrugged.

“If you’re playing some game where you think you’re too angsty or damaged or what-the-fuck-ever, I’m not about it. It’s a fucking stupid thing invented by Hollywood because they needed to find a way to get audiences invested in rom-coms. You don’t get to do that,” Eddie fumed. “You don’t get to call me cute and flirt with me and be there for me and make me feel like I matter and that my fucking _identity_ matters and then tell me that it was all a farce. That’s cruel, Richie. That’s fucking cruel.

"Now look at me and say that again. If you do, this isn’t going to be a movie. We’re not going to go our separate ways and there’s not going to be a montage of us being sad and lonely without each other only to reunite and commit ourselves to each other because the movie’s almost over. No, if you really don’t think we should go out again for whatever trumped up, selfish reason you can think of, if you’ve really just been playing with me this whole time, I’m not ever going to give you another chance. We aren’t going to find each other again and realize we’re somehow meant to be and kiss in the rain or run off into the sunset or any of that.”

Richie saw fire in Eddie's eyes. So he responded the way he always did when it came to things like this: poorly. “You know a lot about rom-coms.”

“That was a terrible answer. Try again."

Richie looked away from the window and out the windshield. “The day we met was one of the worst days of my life,” he whispered.

“Jesus–"

“No, not like that. Eddie, meeting you was one of the best moments of my life that just so happened to be a really, terribly shitty day.”

“Oh.”

And then there was a silence. Richie wasn’t sure what he should say, or really if he had any business saying anything at all. Eddie spoke first.

“That night… did someone hurt you? You were bleeding through your pants. If you were assaulted–"

“I wasn’t,” Richie said bluntly.

“Then what happened?”

 _Now or never, now or never, now or–_ “I'm really sorry, Eddie. You should go.”  _–never._

  
  
  



	7. i'm sorry, i have to go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie makes a mistake.

“Richie?”

Eddie stood still - stunned at his door as he watched the retreating figure of Richie disappear and head down the stairs. Confusion didn’t even begin to describe his feelings about this. He thought… Well, he thought they had had a good time. That things were going to go well, that he’d be able to go on another date with him. That he’d be able to call things off with Carter. That he’d be able to have the perfect fairy tale romance he had always dreamed of. And yet, Richie had torn that away from him quicker than he could've ever predicted.

Eddie shut his door and leaned back against it. He played over the events of the evening in his mind, trying to think of what he could have possibly done wrong that would make Richie run away from him like that. Had he done something? Had he said something? He pulled out his phone, instinctively opening Richie's contact. His thumb hovering over the call button. He wanted to press it. He wanted to beg Richie for answers. He wanted to ask him to come back and finish the night properly. But he didn't. Instead, Eddie switched over to Bev's contact, opening her up and dialing her number instead. 

The phone rang three times on the other end before she picked up. "Eddie?" Bev asked. There was the buzz of people talking around her, and he figured she was out at a pub or restaurant with Ben. Eddie frowned a little. He didn't want to take her away from that, but dammit! He was pissed. He was confused and hurt and he had the right to be selfish right now. "Is everything okay?" She asked, concern obvious in her tone.

"No." He said simply. "It's Richie... I don't know what the fuck I did wrong. He came back to our apartment after an _amazing_ date and goes off about how we shouldn't see each other, about how he thinks I should be with Carter instead and that... That the day we met was the worst day of his life? Which had nothing to do with me, of course, but he still doesn't want to see me anymore? I don't know what the fuck he's going on about but I'm pissed. I thought we had a good time and he can't even give me a real explanation about what happened! Like what the fuck?" 

"Eddie, slow down." Beverly sighed. She knew something, and Eddie could tell.

"No, Bev. What the fuck is his problem? What did I do?" 

"I don't think it's you." She answered quietly. "I'm sorry, Eddie. I should've..." 

"You should've what, Bev? What the fuck is his problem?" 

"It's not a problem. I can't... I can't tell you, Eddie. I'm sorry but I can't. Do you want Ben and I to come home?" 

"No." Eddie huffed, thumping his head back against the door. "No, I'm just gonna wallow in being pissed off for a little while."

"Okay... Just give Richie some space. Don't get mad at him, okay? Just wait till tomorrow, and try to talk to him again. Please?" 

Eddie didn't want to do that. In truth, he was sure after he got off of the phone with Beverly he'd be texting Richie and demanding him to give him some answers. But he trusted Beverly's judgement. She knew Richie better than he did, and if Eddie wanted to make this work in some way or another he'd give Richie a bit of time. Then insist to see him again. 

But maybe he really should get a move on breaking up with Carter. 

"Alright Bev." Eddie sighed. "I'll see you later... Have fun tonight." Without waiting for a goodbye, Eddie hung up the phone and hastily shoved it into his pocket.

* * *

The night hadn't been anything exciting. Eddie had taken a long and scalding hot shower after getting off the phone with Bev, and then curled up in bed for a few hours with Buffy the Vampire Slayer playing in the background and texting Carter about nothing. He felt bad for leading him on this long, but they agreed to meet the next day at Carter's place, and Eddie figured that he'd end things then. It would be easy, or so he hoped. 

He woke up a little after noon the next day and lazily went about getting dressed and cleaning himself up. It wasn't going to be a date, but he figured he'd take his time to ease Carter into it. He declined Bev's attempts to talk to him, and headed out of the house. 

He didn't know how it happened. One minute, he was sitting on Carter's couch, the words _I think we need to stop seeing each other_ on his lips, and then the next, he was in Carter's lap kissing him with raw desire. And then he was in his bed, with his face in Carter’s pillow and the feeling of Carter entering him over and over again while Eddie cried out in pleasure. It was good. But it wasn’t great. It was a nice first experience with gentle thrusts and kisses pressed to his shoulders, but it wasn’t right. Guilt overwhelmed him, and once they finished and he was lying shoulder to shoulder with Carter as they caught their breath, Eddie spoke. 

“I’m sorry.” He started with, refusing to meet Carter’s gaze. 

“What?” 

“I shouldn’t have…” 

Carter frowned, his confusion evident. “What do you mean? Eddie… It was good. Great, even. You were… Really good.” He assured, his hand reaching for Eddie’s, but Eddie moved it away. 

“No, no you’re right. It was good but that’s not… I shouldn’t have, Carter. I… I’m sorry. I’m such a shitty person. I’m sorry. I came to break up with you and then-”

“You want to break up?” 

Eddie couldn’t stand to look away anymore. He glanced towards Carter. There was no outright sadness. None of the tears that his mother used to manipulate him… No, this was worst. Carter was confused. He was hurt. And it was all Eddie’s fault. 

“I like you but I just…” Eddie couldn’t find the right words. _I like Richie more_ didn’t seem like the right thing to say in this situation what so ever. “I just don’t know if I want this to go on. And it has nothing to do with the sex! I… I was thinking it before but then I just… You’re a really great guy, Carter. Fuck I’m so stupid. I’m so sorry. I’ll go.” 

“Yeah. Go.” Carter told him simply, rolling over to turn away from Eddie. It was better like that, Eddie figured. That Carter didn’t have to look at him while he scrambled around the room, picking up his things and throwing his clothes back on. 

“I…” _I’m sorry._ Eddie wanted to say it again as he left Carter’s room, but he didn’t deserve his forgiveness. Eddie frowned to himself before heading out of the room, and then out of his apartment.

* * *

“Eddie? Are you okay?” 

There was no avoiding Beverly this time, and Eddie shouldn't have been surprised. But that didn't mean he liked it. He wanted to just curl up in bed alone and wallow in his self-hatred about the stupid thing he just did... But if he wanted to make things better, Beverly was going to be the one he had to talk to, wasn't she? 

Eddie headed over, flopping down onto the couch beside her. She had been watching Parks and Recreation on Netflix and paused it to wrap her arm around Eddie's shoulder. He let out a heavy sigh, burying his face into her shoulder and groaning loudly. "I'm such a fuck up." He sighed. "I'm seriously so stupid Bev, I literally did like... The worst thing a person could do." 

Beverly frowned. She didn't know what Eddie was talking about, of course. "What happened?"

"I had sex with Carter."

Beverly's frown deepened, her hand going to rub at Eddie's back. "Look, I... I know being gay hasn't been easy for you but there's nothing _wrong_ with having sex with a guy-"

Eddie cut her off with a shake of his head. "No, no, not... Because of that, Bev. I'm over that whole thing but... No, that's not what I meant. I just.... I had sex with Carter and then promptly broke up with him." 

"Ah shit. Was he really that bad?" That was not the right question to ask. Eddie got up from the couch, ready to walk away when Beverly pulled him back down next to her. "No, no I'm sorry Eddie. I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that." She sighed. "That is... Yeah, I can't deny that's a pretty fucking shitty thing for you to do, dude."

"I _know._ But I don't... I went over there to break up with him but I'm still mad at Richie and I dunno. He was cute and he was flirting and I didn't have the heart and I guess I just thought maybe I could put it off a little bit longer. I mean, why not keep trying with him if Richie is done with me, right? Then we were kissing... And I didn't want to stop kissing him. Kissing so awesome. I mean, it wasn't like kissing Richie but it was still _fun._ " 

"Wait, you kissed Richie?" 

Eddie decided to ignore that question. "And then we kept kissing and it was obviously going to be more than just kissing, you know? And I was like... I knew I should stop it but I didn't want to. I've never had sex with anyone but I thought... God, this is _so_ embarrassing but I cleaned up last night before I went out with Richie because I thought maybe something might happen? I actually wanted something to happen. But then I was kissing Carter and he was touching me and it felt good and I wanted to do it. I wanted to get that out of the way and get it over with and we did. We did and he was really good. He was really nice and I felt really good. And then we finished and I knew I couldn't do it. I couldn't do that to him anymore... I guess I should've waited, right? I should've.... I shouldn't have just dumped him right after we fucked. Holy shit what the fuck is the matter with me?" 

Unwilling to Eddie, tears burned in his eyes. He wiped them away rapidly, but he couldn't hide that action from Beverly. "I don't even know why I care this much. It was just one date. I barely even know him." 

There was an unreadable look on Eddie's face as she processed all of the information he was giving him. And he couldn't blame her. It was a lot he had just dumped out, probably more insight into his train of thought than he had ever shared with her - or anyone for that matter. Had it not been such a difficult problem and situation, Beverly might've taken the time to be honoured. 

She shifted around to wrap her arms around Eddie, holding him in a close embrace and allowing him to hide his face against her shoulder. "You're gonna be okay, Eddie... Feelings suck. And relationships do too... I... Richie's a complicated one, and I know what's bugging him. It's nothing you did. It's his own issue and... I'm sure if he heard the way you talked about him he'd want to tell you." Or Beverly hoped. But she wouldn't express that to Eddie. "You really do like him, don't you? He's not just another Carter?" 

Eddie shook his head, not lifting himself from her embrace. "It's stupid how much I like him. How quickly he fit himself into my life. I don't... I've never experienced anything like him Bev. It's like I've known him for my whole life." 

And he meant it too. Eddie hadn't had an easy time making friends. He never found it easy to talk to people - not really. He was a good listener, and people liked that about him, but he never found a real way to connect to others with ease. No way for him to easily communicate with them as they did with him... It took time, it took time to build up the trust that Eddie needed to allow himself to sit and be honest with people, like he was with Beverly right now. So with how easily he felt himself willing to reveal pieces of himself to Richie... It was new. It was exciting. It was _something_ and Eddie wanted to really experience whatever it was. He wanted to try. He didn't know what it would take to make it happen... But god, it had to happen. Eddie needed it to happen. 

"Okay." Bev told him. "You go... You go take a shower, Eddie. I'll talk to Richie." 

Eddie was reluctant to let go of Beverly, but he did. He stepped away from her and headed off to go and shower.

* * *

When Eddie got out of the shower, he was rather surprised to find a text from Richie waiting on his phone. He supposed Bev had done what she promised, and talked to him. Eddie sat on his bed, reading over the short message. 

_im sorry eds we should talk when are you free?_

There didn’t seem to be a lot of sincerity, although it was hard to tell over text. But Eddie didn’t like how curt the message was. It made him worried, that the news he was inevitably going to hear was going to be bad. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, but, he texted back anyways. 

_I’m not doing anything today. What do you wanna do?_

Richie texted him back quicker than Eddie expected. 

_wanna do dinner? Its on me ill come pick you up at seven_

It was the lack of punctuation that made Eddie read it like a demand, rather than a question. And because of that, he almost wanted to tell Richie no out of spite. Even going as far as to write out the message but… That wouldn’t do him any favors, would it? He wanted to make this work. He deserved the chance to make this work. 

_Alright. You know where I live._

Eddie locked his phone, not answering the text that came just a few minutes later. 

_cya then cutie_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knooooow it's been a month and that's completely on me. I've been working on a one-shot that's turning out to be a lot longer than I planned. But, I'm really gonna get moving on this and Fade like Magazines - I can publish the one-shot whenever I have the time to finish it up, you know? Anyways - I'm sorry it's been such a long way for such a short chapter, but I hope you all enjoy it anyways! <3


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